


Takes to the Sky, Like a Bird in Flight

by WeAreTheLuckyOnes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Is 20K slowburn?), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dragonologist Harry, Dragons, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Foreplay, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Hand Jobs, Hermione Granger Bashing, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of a Gay Bashing, Mentions of a Hate Crime, Oral Sex, Post-War, Potions Master Severus Snape, Rimming, Ron Weasley Bashing, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Burn, Smut, mentions of violence against animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAreTheLuckyOnes/pseuds/WeAreTheLuckyOnes
Summary: At the end of the war, Harry left everything behind to study dragons at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. After fifteen years, he's the foremost authority on Oceanic Wyverns, the rarest species of dragon in the wizarding world. After living in Australia for almost a decade, he's called back to Europe when a dying wyvern is discovered in the Lake District. It's taken to the Welsh Dragon Institute for Research and Rehabilitation, where Harry meets it, and the clutch of eggs it has been desperately trying to protect since it was discovered. As he's working to discover the root of the dragon's wounds, and help the hatchlings birth safely, he comes face to face with his past - in the form of Severus Snape.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 28
Kudos: 454
Collections: House of Snarry's Snape Birthday Bash!





	1. Running is a victory - Run Boy Run by Woodkid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddess47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess47/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for Goddess47, to celebrate Severus Snape’s 61st birthday! Goddess said one of their favourite parts about the wizarding world was the dragons and my brain went absolutely wild. Alas, I couldn’t figure out how to include Severus and Harry pretending to date, but hopefully they like dragonologist!Harry with a Who-Dunnit plot!
> 
> Title from Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. I made a Spotify Playlist with the songs used for the title and chapters which is available [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ObTfNhuZYtbPTPnbRmwGp?si=AZnYVBV6RoybP-Ik_-t2Vw).
> 
> A huge ginormous thanks to my amazing beta [Mags](https://archiveofourown.org/users/streitkartoffel/pseuds/streitkartoffel), without whom I would most definitely have not finished in time! You are amazing and I love you.

Harry gets the floo call at two in the morning, just as he's getting in from a long night with the Quetzalcoatl that had gone into a surprise heat two months ahead of schedule. They hadn't had time to bring the male over from Curaçao, and with other non-Quetzalcoatl breeds in the facility, he'd had to give her a suppressant - in the hopes that it would stave off the poor thing's heat just a little longer - and sit with her until it kicked in. It had taken nearly four hours, and Harry had been left exhausted and starving. 

He picked up a burger meal from a 24-hour McDonalds on the way back to his flat, and was just taking his first bite, collapsed on the couch, when his floo was flaring to life, bright green like the grass on his lawn in spring (and not at all the colour of anything else). A voice speaks from inside the flames, announcing itself as _Thomas Willen, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Ministry of Magic_.

He waves his hand vaguely at the fireplace, and after a moment, a large head with nothing but the occasional greying wisp of hair pokes its way out of the fire. "Doctor Potter," the man greets.  
"Mister Willen, a pleasure, as always," Harry replies, though it's very rarely a pleasure. He doesn't bother pretending that he's not collapsed on the couch with a burger stuffed into his mouth, too damned tired to care what the man thinks of him. "What can I do for you at two o'clock in the morning?"

"I do apologise, Doctor Potter," the man says, though he doesn't necessarily seem sincere. "I understand it is very late in Australia. Alas, the matter I call you on is urgent. A female Oceanic Wyvern was found in the Lake District at midday today. She has been severely injured, the dragonologists at the Welsh Dragon Institute suspect that she became involved in an altercation with a native species to protect her eggs."

Harry sits up at that. "Did you just say eggs?"

"Yes, Doctor Potter, three of them."

Harry shoves aside his half-eaten burger. They haven't had any Oceanic Wyvern eggs since before he was born, and with the decreasing birth rate in the last few centuries, more than one was practically unheard of. Three of them? Practically impossible. "Have the eggs been examined?"

The man shakes his head. "No. The head of the Institute suspected that you would want to be the first to look at them, so she ordered the researchers to leave the dragon and the eggs in a temperature appropriate enclosure. The dragon has been treated as best as she can, but there are wounds the dragonologists do not understand, which is why you've been called in. How quickly can you get to Wales?"

Harry thinks for a moment, then says, "I need to sleep, I've been up for forty hours. Can she wait for twelve hours, or is it dire?"

There's silence, then the man nods. "That should be fine, you will be contacted if quicker action is needed." 

After that, he's gone, disappearing into the flames, before the flames disappear with him. As Harry's finishing his food, he sends a floo message to his supervisor. Emergency international trips are normal for Harry, as the only fully qualified Oceanic Wyvern expert in the world (the next most qualified - or almost qualified - is his assistant Josh) he's shipped off to other countries often, to collect trafficked Wyverns, to heal injured ones, and to try to breed the healthy ones living in sanctuaries around the world. After he's sent the message to his supervisor, he sends one to Josh, then goes to dump his rubbish in the bin before stumbling his way to his bedroom, collapsing into bed once he's pulled off his clothes. His big, dumb, fat cat Gumby flops himself over Harry's chest and he has to spit out fur to be able to breathe.

-*-*-*-*-*-

When he wakes, after what feels like twenty hours but is no more than six, he packs a trunk with as much clothing as he can stuff inside. He takes Gumby over to his neighbour's - an elderly woman with crazy hair and too many cats of her own - and hands her two hundred to look after him for two weeks. He promises to either be back before the two weeks are up or have his assistant pick Gumby up if he can't. She's happy to take him, she always is, and he's always treated well at hers.

Once his belongings are shrunk and inside his pocket, he locks up his flat and covers it in protective wards, before apparating to the Ministry. He heads straight for the Department of Transportation, a path he's had memorised since he moved to Australia, and lets himself into the Head of the department, Aaron Langley's office. The man is at his desk, staring down at a piece of paper in his hands, and he looks up as Harry steps inside.

"Hey, Aaron, how fast can you get me a portkey to Wales? They've got O-W eggs." Harry says, dropping into the seat across the table from the man.

Aaron's eyes go wide. They'd gotten to know each other through Harry's constant travel (and through a few failed dates), and subsequently, Aaron had come to know a lot about Oceanic Wyverns, including the significance of eggs. He presses a call button on a box sitting atop his desk and says, "Hey, Mia, could you bring in a blank portkey for me, thanks." He turns his chair and reaches into the file case behind him for one of Harry's pre-filled travel forms, placing it down on the desk. "Address?" 

"Welsh Dragon Institute for Research and Rehabilitation, Llanelwy, Wales, United Kingdom. I don't know the post code. My contact is Thomas Willen, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I don't know how long I'll be there, put it down as two weeks and if we need longer I'll contact you to extend the VISA."

One of the portkey makers, Mia, lets herself into the office and hands Aaron an old copper coffee pot before letting herself out again. Aaron completes the form, signs and stamps it, then has Harry sign with his magic. The form refiles itself and Aaron brings the coffee pot up to hover in the air, casting the location spell on it. 

He gently sets the pot on the desk in front of Harry once he's done and says, "It will leave in two minutes. In two weeks, if you're ready to return, visit Joanna Harmon in the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry of Magic in London, she'll supply you with a portkey home. As I said, if you need longer, contact me."

Harry nods his head. "Thanks, Aaron, I really appreciate it."

Aaron nods his head and smiles kindly at Harry as he takes the coffee pot. "Good luck, Harry," he says, before Harry is pulled through his belly button. He's left at the end of a long, dark stretch of road, in front of a large brick building that cheerily identifies itself as the _Welsh Dragon Institute for Research and Rehabilitation_ with a large purple sign off the side of the driveway. 

Harry hasn't been to this Sanctuary before, it's one of only a few he hasn't been required to visit, and he's excited to see the breeds it holds. He's not met a Hebridean Black yet, it's illegal to keep them out of Great Britain, even if they're in a sanctuary, and with Harry's desperate attempts at avoiding returning to the United Kingdom, he's been deprived of the pleasure. People say that Hebridean's are the most beautiful breed - with dark, iridescent scales and purple eyes like huge amethysts. 

He takes himself up the stairs to the building's entrance and lets himself inside, the wards opening to him easily. The inside of the building looks far more like someone's house than the offices of a dragon sanctuary, with a spacious entryway and a sitting room to his left. To his right is a closed door, which opens moments after his arrival to reveal an older woman with greying red hair and a bright smile, who reminds him so much of Molly Weasley that it makes his chest clench.

"Welcome, Doctor Potter!" She greets cheerily, reaching out to shake his hand. "It's so good to finally meet you, I've heard wonderful things!"

It took Harry years to stop worrying that when someone looked at him, all they thought of was his past, and not his present, not his expertise in dragons. It took years for the need for worry to abate. But this woman? This woman is exactly the type of person that Harry never needed to worry about, too sincere to be someone blinded by his earliest fame. 

Harry lets her lead him into the office, sitting at the seat in front of the desk that she gestures him towards. She sits on the other side of the desk and says, "My name is Doctor Emmaline Vangness, I've been taking care of the Oceanic Wyvern." She takes a breath, and stares down at the papers in her hands before speaking again. "As far as we can tell, the Wyvern isn't female, but the eggs are most definitely Oceanic Wyvern. We were hoping you could help shine a light on this mystifying development."

Harry nods his head. Yeah, okay, a male with three eggs and no female in sight is weird as all hell. One of the reasons Oceanic Wyverns are so endangered is because the female has a nasty habit of eating the male as soon as she falls pregnant. (Another is their usefulness in a range of potions, and the poaching for dragonhide products.) "Of course, that's very strange. And you're sure it's a male? Wyverns don't-"

"Have any visible or magically identifiable sex characteristics, yes. In the simplest of terms, the tranquilizers had an... unusual effect on the dragon that made his gender easily identifiable."

Harry doesn't need an explanation. That would've been amusing, he thinks, believing the dragon to be female only to learn they were wrong when a tranquilizer gave it an erection. He tries not to laugh, he thinks it would be considered rude, or unprofessional, and this woman doesn't know him all that well. "So he's currently tranquilized?" The woman nods. "And the eggs? Have you left them with him, or are they separate?"

Her tongue clicks as she opens her mouth to speak. "Every time we try to remove them from the room, he wakes and we have to put him back under. We're not sure how. We decided to just leave them together. I figured you'd want to see them as soon as you arrived." Harry nods. "Good. Leave your belongings in here and we'll head over to the enclosure. Can I get you any tea or coffee?"

He shakes his head no and thanks her before emptying his pockets of his trunk and bag, leaving them on the floor before setting them back to their normal size. He leaves his coat over the trunk before letting Emmaline Vangness lead the way out of the office.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The Wyvern's enclosure is shaped like a dome, and when he steps inside it's warm and humid, like the north-east of Australia in summer. Inside, when the door is closed, it looks like the Australian bush, with eucalyptus trees and red dirt that stretches for kilometres all around him. In the middle of it sits a nest made from twigs, feathers and bits of cloth, occupied by a large dragon with seaweed green scales and a black belly, curled protectively around three roughly-child sized eggs. The eggs are a black onyx, immediately identifiable as Oceanic Wyvern eggs, as no other dragon hatches any as dark, and none nearly as round and large. He'd wondered if they'd mistakenly identified the eggs, and the Wyvern had simply been eating them, rather than protecting his young, but no, these are definitely the same breed.

Harry spells himself flame retardant before approaching the dragon and its eggs. He does an initial visual inspection, circling the sleeping mass, looking at each and every injury visible to him. It's barely a minute before he realises that the dragon's wounds haven't come from fighting for territory or protecting his eggs from another dragon.

No, he's covered in spell burns. Poachers.

"I need you to contact Thomas Willen and inform him that someone has been poaching on British soil. As we have eggs and no mother, we can safely assume she was taken by the poachers. For the moment, she's worth more to them alive. I'll need a contact in the potions trade as well." 

Emmaline nods her head and disappears from the enclosure, leaving Harry alone with the dragon. He steps up towards the eggs, measuring them against the size of his own body. Approximately three and a half feet, almost ready to hatch. He reaches forward to touch the one closest to himself, pressing the side of his face to the shell and listening. 

The dragon twitches and lifts its head slowly, turning black eyes to Harry. He takes a step back and stands stock still in front of the creature, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "I'm gonna help you and your babies, I'm gonna get their mum back, I promise." The dragon's head approaches Harry, bumping into his chest and snuffling at his shirt. He's not sure what it smells there - maybe Australia, its home - but the scent settles it enough that it lowers its head back down to its talons and lets Harry stroke its face. "I'll whip up a potion to heal the burn marks, okay? Should be ready tomorrow morning. Are you still in pain, do you need any pain relief."

People like to tell him he's a bit loopy after everything he's been through, because talking to dragons like they can understand a word you're saying is completely insane. But Harry knows they understand him. If not by the words he speaks, but by the tone of his voice and the scent his emotions emit. 

The dragon huffs, blinking over at him, and Harry says, "I'll go find you some, and maybe you'd like something to eat?" The creature huffs again and butts it snout against his hip, rough enough that it bumps him backwards a step. "Okay, okay, I take it that is a resounding yes. Go back to sleep darling, and I'll bring you something to eat."

Harry follows the feel of magic back to the enclosure's door and lets himself outside into the field. He's alone, and with no idea where they keep the dragon feed, he's left wandering around a bit blind. He eventually comes across a dragonology student and is directed towards another dome enclosure filled with sheep, cows and pigs. Even after fifteen years of working with dragons, he can't make himself kill an animal for them, he's usually happier when he can send the poor animal in for the dragon to do it itself, but because the Wyvern is injured, it needs to be done, so he makes the poor student do it. He floats the pig's body back to the enclosure and leaves in front of the dragon, standing by the entrance to make sure it eats before he leaves again.

-*-*-*-*-*-

He finds Emmaline Vangness in her office, leaning over the floo in the middle of a conversation with a man Harry doesn't know. She notices him enter and ends the floo call, turning to him with a smile.

"Mr Willen is sending a representative from his department tomorrow morning, and I've just spoken to a man from the Department of the Regulations of Potions who will be sending a potions master tonight," she informs him, nodding her head. "No ingredients on the black market as of yet."

"Good," Harry replies, nodding his head. "Do you mind if I take that coffee now?"

"Oh! Of course not, follow me to the kitchen."

Harry lets himself be led out of the office and through the hallway to a door in the same back hallway as the door out to the field of enclosures. The kitchen is huge and modern, with muggle appliances, including a coffee machine, which Emmaline uses to make Harry a coffee. They sit together at the kitchen counter and Emmaline tells Harry all about the dragons that currently live at the sanctuary, including the Hebridean Black, offering to show Harry around properly at the best opportunity. 

Emmaline's just telling Harry about the Opaleye they've affectionately nicknamed _Bastard Boy_ (which Harry _cannot_ stop laughing at), who regularly breaks out of his enclosure and goes on sprees in the neighbouring wizarding villages (mostly for pats - imagine that, a dragon that wants to be pet regularly by strangers), when the ward alarm announces a new incoming presence.

"We're in the kitchen, dear!" Emmaline calls out, and Harry turns around to watch the doorway for the new arrival. He's not aware of any British Potions Masters that didn't teach him at Hogwarts, one of whom had passed away since the war, and he's curious to find out who his contact will be. 

Of _course_. "Professor Snape."


	2. Voodoo, I could do what you do - Ready or Not by Fugees

Severus Snape almost looks like a different man, but Harry supposes that will happen to you after fifteen years when you're no longer under the control of a raging sociopath and a raging psychopath. His inky black hair is greying at his temples, and pulled back into a bun at the back of his head, messy like he'd done it in a rush. He's wearing a fitted green suit so dark it's almost black, with a black cloak thrown over the top. That's what catches Harry. He can't remember seeing Snape in anything other than his black teaching robes, and it's a shock. The lines on the man's face are still there, but they aren't so deep anymore, like they've had time to smooth out into his skin. His fingers are still stained from potion ingredients, but not so deeply any more, like he'd actually gone out of his way to try to clean them over the years. 

"Mister Potter, what a surprise, I had heard you were in Australia." Snape has a perfectly shaped eyebrow (does he pluck them?) raised at Harry as he lets himself into the kitchen and makes himself a cup of tea using the water in the kettle he boils with magic. He's familiar with the kitchen, he knows where the mugs and milk is, and Emmaline smiles kindly at him. "And I am no longer a professor."

Harry's not sure how to reply. There are several things he's wanted to say to the man for many years, but now that he's here, Harry can't make a single word tumble from his lips. Snape lifts his finished mug of tea to his lips and looks at Harry over the rim of it, eyebrow still raised. "I still live in Australia, I'm only here for the Wyvern." Snape raises both eyebrows, mouth twisted into the corner, and Harry has to look away and take a gulp of his coffee so he doesn't say anything stupid. He's not sure what he's supposed to say next, he's absolutely terrible at talking, he willingly admits to that, but he doesn't have to, because Emmaline, the angel, speaks first.

"Master Snape, so good to see you again. How is your aunt?"

Harry stares down into his coffee with wide eyes. Snape has an aunt?

"Better, but alas, still as belligerent as always," Snape replies, taking his tea to the table and setting the mug on the surface before pulling his coat off and hanging it over the back of the chair. He sits down slowly and crosses his legs at the ankles before picking up his mug again. "At this juncture, all I can do is help her with the pain, all of my experiments seem to be ineffective at treating such a disease."

Emmaline nods and reaches over to pat Snape's hand. Harry's feeling very confused. He finishes his coffee in one swallow and stands up before saying, "I'm going to see if he's eaten what I brought him. Would you mind bringing Master Snape up on his condition?"

"Of course, dear. There's a call button in his enclosure that runs to the office, let me know if you require anything."

Harry smiles at her politely and takes his mug to the sink, cleaning it out before he heads back out into the field of enclosures.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The Wyvern lets Harry inspect the eggs carefully, performing a spell that has a similar function to a muggle sonogram, or an x-ray. It helps him see past the egg shell to get a better look at the fetuses inside. They're healthy and moving, and he can tell that the yolk sac is mostly absorbed, which means their birth is far more imminent than any of them thought. He'd place bets on it happening sometime tomorrow.

When he's finished examining the eggs he moves back to the dragon. "Alright, darling, what kind of burns do you have?" He checks the biggest one, over the dragon's neck first, casting a sanitising spell over his hands before reaching forward to touch the wound. The dragon makes a pained noise and flinches back, but returns when Harry whispers soothing words, promising to be gentle and to heal him right up. Most of the burns are from _stupifies_ that missed their mark and scraped along the creature's scales, some _tempest jinxes_. Some of them are deep, thick lacerations on its belly and legs from _bombardas_ and _confrigos_ and _incarcerous_ when the dragon began to fight harder. Harry can heal them pretty quickly, but he'll need potions, probably 8, and at least 12 gallons worth of each. And he'll need help. 

Which means he'll need Snape.

He uses strong healing spells on as many superficial wounds as he can before he pets the dragon's scaly forehead and wanders back to the door to find the call charm. He activates it and leans forward to speak into it when Emmaline answers. "Could you please bring Master Snape to the Wyvern's enclosure."

"Of course dear, do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you," he replies, before she's gone and he's heading back to the dragon and its eggs to wait, sitting in front of the creature with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap. He tells the dragon, "Remind me to eat tonight, because if you don't I won't," and as though it understands him, it looks at him very sternly and butts his shoulder with its nose. "Yeah, I know you won't let me forget. Someone's coming to help me make potions to heal your wounds, you'll be ready and raring to go soon, and we'll find their mama."

He's still talking to the dragon when Snape and Emmaline enter the enclosure. It climbs up onto its feet, careful of both the eggs and Harry, stepping in front of them and staring at the new arrivals. It stands on shaking legs, and it doesn't attack, but it wants them both to know it can, and it will, even if it's injured and in pain. Harry reaches forward and strokes its neck gently.

"Okay, boy, she's not going to try and take the eggs again, and he only wants to help, remember? I told you?" Harry tells him gently. Snape is staring at him, but Harry can't read his expression. "Go lay back down."

Harry steps away from the dragon and towards Snape and Emmaline, before saying, "He needs a few potions; a blood replenishing, a _Chelidonium Miniscula_ , Murtlap Essence, and a wound-cleaning potion. I've made them tailored to dragons before, but I'll need help if I want to get it done fast. Also a dragon tonic, and a _Draconis Magicae Adolebitque_. Master Snape?"

Snape doesn't say anything for a long moment, staring Harry down, before _finally_ he nods and agrees. "Of course, Potter. I am here to assist you after all."

Harry can't tell if Snape is being sarcastic or genuine, and it annoys him just a little bit. He turns to Emmaline - mostly in order to ignore Snape - and says, "Would you mind leading us to the potions lab?"

-*-*-*-*-*-

The sanctuary's potions lab is pretty well stocked, but it's missing two key ingredients for the _Chelidonium Miniscula_. Harry's not all that surprised, it's not a common potion, and he only knows it from the Half Blood Prince's book, so he knows Snape knows it. Nonetheless, they have to acquire ablar stones, mornaal buds and tigerlily wings, which are not necessarily hard to find, but may take time. Unless their resident potions master has some.

Snape rolls his eyes when Harry asks, but Harry can tell he's amused, mouth tilted up at the corner. Harry's never seen him amused before. "I'll step through the floo and collect them."

"Thanks, Snape!" Harry calls to him as the man leaves the lab. 

While he's gone, Harry pulls out six cauldrons - three pewter, two copper and one brass - setting each on a different unlit hearth before starting to collect the ingredients. They wont start them all at the same time, they can be staggered, but Harry likes setting everything out before he starts, having everything in front of him and organised. Snape returns with the ingredients as Harry's counting everything, making sure they'll have enough.

"Thank you, write me an invoice and I'll pay for the ingredients - you shouldn't have to provide them." Harry tells him, taking the ingredients from him and setting them on the counter with the other ingredients. He sucks his tongue and stares at the pile on the counter, trying to figure out where to start. The _Chelidonium Miniscula_ , the Murtlap Essence and the _Draconis Magicae Adolebitque_ take the longest, but the blood replenishing and the wound-cleaning are the most needed, and the dragon tonic needs the most attention. The dragon tonic could probably be left until last, and with two of them, they could do at least four potions at one time. 

"Can I help?" Snape asks from beside Harry, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, yes… maybe. Thinking is hard. Took one too many knocks to the head and now my brain won't cooperate every now and then," he shoots Snape a friendly smile before turning back to the items in front of him. "Sometimes it takes me longer to work through a problem than other times. I'm trying to figure out which ones we need to start first, and when to schedule the others."

Snape nods slowly. "Which potions are the most important?"

"Blood replenishing and wound-cleaning." Harry says, before he remembers the whelps and groans, wiping a hand over his eyes. "We need to have formula ready for the whelps when the eggs hatch. I don't know if they keep Wyvern formula on hand, I might have to make it."

"Harry, focus. After the blood replenishing and the wound-cleaning, what two potions are the next most important?"

Harry looks back at Snape. "Uh… the Adolebitque and the murtlap. Then the Chelidonium and the tonic."

Snape nods and sets the fire under a pewter cauldron for the blood replenishing and a brass cauldron for the wound-cleaning. "So we set the bases and move on to the next two."

Harry feels a bit like Snape's student again, and not an adult who helps run a potions laboratory and is the world's foremost expert in Oceanic Wyverns - the only expert. He lets Snape tell him what to do though, because he would much rather get this finished than fight for a sliver of pride he never had in the first place. He takes the ingredients for the blood replenishing potion and sets them down next to the pewter cauldron, finding a chopping board and a set of knives. 

"For a Wyvern the valerian root must be sliced rather than diced for a human, and the bat eye needs to be juiced into the cauldron, then diced as small as you can possibly make it," he tells the man, taking three pieces of dried entrails that he has to powder.

Harry hums the Fugees _Ready or Not_ while he works, a muggle song he remembers hearing for the first time in the summer he rode the trains through the Underground in London. It'd been on a tiny radio in a station tea shop, and it had… it had made him feel something in a way he hadn't felt for months. He'd found the name of the song and bought the cassette, fixed up Dudley's old Walkman and listened to the song over and over and over again for years, even after the war was over. Years later, while Harry was starting in Australia, he'd mentioned it to his new psychologist – a lovely muggle woman who was under the impression that he fought for the British armed forces in the Afghanistan Civil War, rather than a wizard war that raged for twenty years – had cracked a joke about an _emotional support song_ , like an emotional support animal. She'd told him that when she went through bad days, she would sing _You Give Love a Bad Name_ , by a muggle band called Bon Jovi, because it reminded her of her father. He'd felt vindicated. He used to hum it when he was anxious, or depressed, he'd do it daily in the Forest of Dean until Hermione had asked him to teach her the words, so they could sing it together. And while he still does that, he mostly hums it when he's working on potions now, to keep his concentration. 

It hadn't occurred to him to warn Snape that it was a part of his process, so he shouldn't be surprised when Snape finally snaps, "Would you please stop that."

Harry had been so focused on the task in front of him that he jolts at Snape's voice, dropping a jar of flobberworms and narrowly catching it with a wandless _accio_ before it hits the ground. It smacks back into his hand and he turns to the other man, blinking at him owlishly before he processes what's been said to him and says, "Sorry. I hum when I'm concentrating."

Snape stares at him for a long time without saying a word, a look on his face that Harry can't identify (not that that's unusual, the man was a spy for twenty years). Finally, he lets out a short breath and says, "Fine, just for the love of Merlin, do it quieter."

Harry's not sure what he's supposed to say in reply, so he just nods and goes back to his potion.

-*-*-*-*-*-

They work for hours, until the first two potions are finished, the second two are in stasis and the third two are well underway. When there's time to step away from the potions, Harry checks the watch on his wrist. It's a muggle digital watch (because he's still bloody terrible at reading a clock), and it identifies the time as 1:42 PM, which confuses Harry for almost a minute until he realises that he hasn't changed the time to Wales time. He casts a Tempus, which identifies the time as 2:42 AM. Neither of them had remembered to eat.

"Snape," he says gently, stepping up next to Snape as he's throwing crushed agave seed into the pot, trying to catch the man's attention without disturbing him too much. "Are you hungry?"

Snape tilts his head to look at Harry for a moment then turns back to the potion. He's been working on the dragon tonic, and Harry knows how precarious and hazardous it can be, so he suddenly feels guilty for interrupting him. But the man speaks anyway. "I suspect the answer is yes, but as of yet I haven't noticed it."

Harry nods his head. "I'll see what's in the kitchen, shoot me a patronus if you need me." 

Snape huffs an acknowledgement and Harry leaves him to it, finding his way out of the lab and back towards the kitchen. The building is dead silent, so he's surprised to find someone in the kitchen, standing over the coffee machine. He has a shock of purple hair (from the visible brown roots, Harry can tell it's dyed, rather than natural like it might be for a metamorphmagus) and bleary brown eyes, and Harry lets himself look for just a moment, before he's letting his mouth turn up into a smile.

"Hello!" He greets cheerily, going to the refrigerator to see if there's anything inside he and Snape can eat.

The man turns back to him, blinking sleepily, and says, "No hello, only coffee."

Harry laughs and pulls what looks like soup, or maybe stew, out of the refrigerator, leaving it on the counter top. Harry goes to look for bowls, finding them in the cupboard to the man's right, putting them on the counter next to the soup/stew. 

The man looks at him again, squinting. "You're Harry Potter," the way he says it makes Harry wonder if he's about to fall into a talk about the war, except this man instead says, "I was in Slytherin, a year below you. Cameron Boyle." He holds his hand out to Harry and Harry reaches forward to take it. He vaguely recognises the name, thinks he remembers some rather salacious rumors that circled Hogwarts about Cameron Boyle and Draco Malfoy in the astronomy tower. He knows now that Draco Malfoy is completely and utterly gay (something he knows biblically), but at the time he'd thought it was a load of shit. He doesn't say any of this of course. "You're probably here for the Wyvern. He doesn't like me very much, he tried to set me on fire, had to just leave it and move onto the next."

"I think the only reason he hasn't tried to burn me to a crisp is because I smell like his home," Harry says with a huff of laughter, using magic to fill the two bowls with the soup/stew, watching it arch from the container and into the dishes. He heats it with another flick of his wrist before starting to scour through the kitchen for bread. "What are you working on now?"

"A pregnant Hebridean. She's a fucking cow."

Laughter is startled from Harry, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet, in case anyone's sleeping. Cameron looks extremely pleased at Harry's reaction. "I left a Quetzalcoatl in heat to my colleagues in Australia and I don't even feel a little bit bad about it."

Cameron laughs then, smacking his hand on the counter. "No, I wouldn't either!" The coffee machine beeps when it's finished, and Cameron goes to pour it into his mug, holding it in both hands and sipping it without letting it cool, or adding milk or sugar. He watches Harry as Harry butters the bread he found, four pieces of it, and piles it on a side plate. "Do you reckon you'll be here long?"

"Dunno, depends how long the Wyvern needs me, and how long it takes to catch whoever took its mate."

Cameron looks at Harry over the mug of his coffee and _oh_. "Could go out for a pint before you leave if you'd like?"

"Yeah," Harry replies without hesitation. "Sounds good."

Cameron smiles brightly and Harry leaves before he starts blushing like a teenager, letting the foot trail behind him. Back in the lab, Snape is still leaning over the potion, watching it, and Harry leaves the food on the empty table in front of him, so he knows it's there.


	3. I feel it when you won’t mind sneaking off - The Chain by Mattis

Harry sleeps in a small bedroom on the second floor, and wakes in the early afternoon, unbelievably confused and slightly ill. He sits on the edge of the bed and hangs his head, elbows braced on his knees, and breathes in and out until the nausea passes, staying there just a little longer afterwards until he's ready to get out of bed. He takes a change of clothes out of his trunk and carries them out to the hallway, trying to find the bathroom he'd used the night before. He takes a quick shower, shaves and dresses, before heading downstairs.

Emmaline is in her office, and Harry knocks on the door before letting himself inside. "Hey, any change last night?"

Emmaline looks up from the quill and paper on the desk in front of her, smiling kindly at him and gesturing for him to sit down. Harry does. "He's doing better. The superficial wounds have healed, his liver and lungs are looking better and Severus tells me that his flame has returned, so he suspects his throat is also healed."

"Snape's with the Wyvern now?"

Emmaline nods her head. "He's been up since nine, I told him he could sleep for longer but he said he'd rather work on potions. He's made more tonic and _Chelidonium_ , and administered more blood replenishing." She looks down at her hands with a frown, like she's trying to remember if there's anymore. "Oh! One of the whelps was born at 10:13, another was born at 12:56 and we're just waiting on the last now."

Harry climbs to his feet in a hurry. "No one woke me?"

Emmaline laughs. "Severus tried to, you _Leviosa'd_ a book at him, so he decided to leave you alone."

"I magicked a book at Snape? Thirteen year old me is celebrating right now." Harry covers his mouth, and tries not to laugh. "I'm gonna go examine the whelps, I'll let you know how they're doing."

Emmaline nods, and Harry leaves her alone, making his way through the house to the field of enclosures. Harry sees Snape enter the Wyvern's enclosure as he's coming around the side, and he's floating a sheep behind him. He follows the man inside and watches him leave the dead animal at the dragon's feet before he announces himself.

"Hey, Snape."

Snape looks over at Harry for a moment, before striding towards the two wriggling whelps in the nest and the solitary egg. "Good, you are awake, you can help me feed the whelps. They have been getting belligerent with me when I have to feed them one at a time." He produces two bottles of dragon formula that Harry had made up the night before from his coat and holds one out to Harry. 

Harry shuffles after him and takes the bottle, falling to his knees on the ground besides the nest, reaching in and pulling one of the whelps into his lap. It struggles, and it takes a moment for Harry to get the bottle's teat into its mouth, but when he finally does, it stops moving and goes almost completely limp in his arms. When Harry looks over at Snape, the man has done the same.

"Have they eaten any meat yet?"

Snape hums and nods his head, tilting the bottle up so the whelp has to tilt its face up and it opens up its throat. "Anguis shared his cow with them this morning."

"Anguis?" Harry chuckles. "You named a dragon 'dragon'?" Snape turns to Harry and rolls his eyes dramatically, which only makes Harry laugh harder. The whelp in his arms starts to wriggle again, and Harry stops laughing so he doesn't disturb it. "Anything new from the egg?"

Snape shakes his head. "I checked on the whelp an hour ago using an amplifying spell, nothing troubling. I suspect it might just not be ready to join its siblings yet."

Harry nods his head slowly and strokes the whelp in his arms. When they're this little, their scales are almost soft, like leather rather than stone - another reason Wyvern whelps are so popular on the black market, in a lot of people's eyes they're perfect for gloves and shoes. 

Harry doesn't understand. He never has. When he was a kid all animal-made clothes used to horrify him, muggle and wizarding. When he got older, started working and studying at the dragon sanctuary in Romania, he learnt the differences between sustainable animal-made clothing and unsustainable and cruel. Harry only knows of ten clothing brands across the world who make dragonhide clothing sustainably. A guild of dragonologists across the world, including himself, have been trying to get laws put into place to regulate the making of dragonhide clothing for years. A lot of Ministries have already complied, but the United Kingdom is not one of them, and it's almost impossible to track the origins of dragonhide on the black market. Harry _hates_ it.

Snape says his name, and Harry looks away from the creature in his arms and up at him, and says, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Snape considers him for a moment. "Do you do that often? Become lost in a reverie?"

"Disassociate? Oh yeah, loads," Harry replies, nodding his head. The dragon whelp pulls away from the bottle, and won't take the teat back when Harry tries to put it in it's mouth, so he leaves the bottle beside his leg. Anguis stomps around behind him and bumps his shoulder with his snout, before leaning over him and snuffling at the whelp in his lap. "Hey, buddy, gonna share some of your sheep with them, or did you eat it all?" The dragon stomps away again before returning with a chunk of bloody meat, dropping it by Harry's feet with a _thump_ , blood splattering on his pants leg and shirt, a few droplets landing against his face. "Okay, thanks."

Snape snorts as the whelp in Harry's lap and the one in his own dive straight for the meat. Harry's never heard anything that close to a laugh leave Snape, and he has to stare at him for a long time just to make sure it actually was him. It was, his eyes are crinkled at the corners, just a little bit, even if his mouth is still set into a straight line.

Harry climbs to his feet and spells away the dirt and splatters of blood from his clothes. "I could use a coffee, want a cuppa?"

Snape hums an affirmative, nodding his head and struggles to his feet. Once he's standing, Harry realises he's wearing jeans. _Jeans_. Snape wears jeans? They're so dark and straight they could almost be confused for navy slacks, but no, they're _definitely_ jeans. Harry is losing his damned mind.

He's not sure why, but he reaches over and pats Snape's shoulder on his way out, and his palm grows warm from the man's body heat.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The third whelp is born that afternoon, and Anguis (which seems to have stuck with absolutely everyone who sees the dragon on a regular basis now) takes to it as well as he'd taken to the other two. Two are females, which means more opportunities to hike up the birth rate, and the other seems to be intersex, with male external organs and female internal organs, which is quite common for all subspecies of Wyvern, especially Oceanics. Intersex Wyverns with female internal organs are rarely fertile enough to carry eggs, but it's not unheard of. One of the males in the Australian sanctuary was born to an intersex parent, but that was forty years ago.

Now that the whelps have hatched, they're healthy, and Anguis is healing, Harry lets Cameron convince him to go out for a drink (not that he had to try very hard).

They go to a pub in the closest wizarding town, a short apparition trip from the sanctuary. The building looks like it's been standing there for the better part of a millennium, with old rock walls and a thatch roof, and ivy climbing up the sides. They sit inside, at a corner table booth, and share a battered seafood plate between them as they talk. 

Cameron mostly talks about dragons, at least at first, until he mentions that he named one of the Chinese Fireballs after a character from a muggle animated kids movie called Mulan, and the conversation veers off into a shared love of muggle films. Cameron likes classics and animations, and Harry admits to being slightly obsessed with superhero films, particularly the Marvel series, which Harry describes when Cameron admits he hasn't seen any of them. While talking about the most recent instalment of the series, _Guardians of the Galaxy_ they veer of into music while Harry's explaining the soundtrack. Cameron's not familiar with a lot of muggle music, but he likes a lot of the new wizarding music trend, which is similar to old muggle rock and roll.

"There's this new band, Erised Stone - do you remember Isobel McDougal, she was a Ravenclaw in your year-" Harry nods his head. He remembers her very well, she used to scare the absolute shit out of him. She was a muggleborn, and she'd been raised by punk parents who let her dye her hair crazy colours (it was a different colour every time she returned from break) and taught her not to take shit from anyone. She was the only person, other than Hermione, who ever hit Draco, and she'd threatened to beat the shit out of Harry during sixth year for following Draco around Hogwarts and ' _snooping_ ' in Ravenclaw's wing. He was also convinced he was in love with her, before he realised he was gay, but realised later that he was just absolutely gobsmacked by her and envious of the stances she took so unwaveringly. "-she's the lead singer, and she plays a muggle electric guitar. They're so good, I have all of their records."

"I don't think I've heard them, I'll have to look them up."

They stay until late, talking, drinking, and Cameron invites Harry back to the cottage he keeps between the town and the sanctuary. He explains it's to show Harry the records he keeps, particularly the Erised Stone record (which Harry is actually interested in), but the implication is clear. Harry hasn't had sex in months, longer than he's gone since the end of the war, when he got piss drunk at a celebration and fell into bed with a man he still can't remember the name of, and he thinks _fuck it_.

They do end up listening to the record, and Harry spends the first few songs getting friendly with Cameron's crup Dandy, before Harry gets Cameron over the back of the couch and eats him out, fucking him until they've both come. They take a bottle of wine and the record player into Cameron's bedroom, which they share between them without glasses like a couple of teenagers, laughing at each other's terrible jokes and listening intently to each story. Cameron falls asleep first, Harry finding it hard to sleep despite the wine and the sex. 

While the night and the sex was fun - _very_ fun - Harry decides he'll not do it again.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Harry wakes breathless, with a headache and a thumping heart to a floo call alarm and sits up so quickly his head swims and he almost vomits. He drank too much the night before, and mixed with his standard reaction of nausea and pain to waking he thinks he might be dying. He'd accept it willingly.

He smacks his hand against the bed next to him, on Cameron's naked chest, and the other man groans weakly, rolling onto his side to get away from Harry's poking fingers.

" _What_?" The man wines, cracking an eye open and staring over at Harry. Harry doesn't speak, he thinks he might throw up if he does, but he doesn't need to when the floo alarm registers with Cameron. "Who the _fuck_ is calling this early?"

Cameron climbs out of the bed slowly, clutching his head, and disappears past the doorway. While he's gone, Harry checks the bedside table, when he remembers he had the good sense the night before to tell Cameron to leave pain potions, anti nausea potions and pepperups, and takes one of each, downing them one after the other. While waiting for them to kick in he climbs back under the covers, covering his head with the quilt, like it'll protect him from feeling so shitty. It doesn't.

Cameron returns as Harry's feeling well enough to emerge from the sheets, a green tinge to his face, eyes worried. Harry hands him the potions and he takes them all before he says, "The aurors called this morning."

It's all he can get out - voice rough from a night of drinking and disuse while he slept - but Harry doesn't need explanation. The aurors would have only called if ingredients had started to appear on the black market.

He has to rush into the lounge room completely naked in search of his clothes, and wrinkles his nose when he realises they're covered in stains (mostly beer, but he's pretty sure the one on the knee of his jeans is come) and they stink to high heaven. He runs as thorough a cleaning charm over them as he can before he dresses. Cameron meets him in the foyer, after setting out food for the crup and they apparate back to the sanctuary.

Snape and Emmaline are both waiting for them in the office, and in lieu of greeting (which he'll feel bad about later) Harry asks, "Mortal or survivable?"

"Survivable, scales and blood, claws. Harry, the aurors have told me that there are thirty-two claws for sale." 

It takes a second for the words to sink into Harry's still-muddled brain, but when they do, his heart sinks into his gut. "There are two?"

"Seems like it. They're sending a team of aurors in a couple hours, eat something and check on Anguis and I'll tell you when they're here." Emmaline's face is set, determined, like she has things to do and she needs them all gone before she does any of them. 

Harry nods and is the first out of the door, followed by the other two men. Snape joins them in the kitchen and makes himself a cup of tea while they scrounge through the refrigerator and pantry for food. He's leaning against the cabinet with his tea, and he blinks briefly at Harry over the rim of the mug before he looks at Cameron. The implication is clear. He knows what they did the night before, and he's _disapproving_. It annoys Harry and he decides to give the man a piece of his mind. Later, after he's dealt with the mess set out in front of them.


	4. I’ll lose my mind at least another thousand times - Devil Town by CAVETOWN

The aurors arrive once Harry has taken a shower and changed his clothes. He'd meant to check on the dragon and the whelps before their appearance, but they'd come earlier than he was expecting, an hour rather than two - which he's grateful for, don't get him wrong, time is very much of the essence, but he would've preferred a little more time. 

He's only familiar with one of the aurors. Charlotte Blois was the daughter of Henry Blois, a man Harry worked with in Romania, and he hasn't seen her since she was fifteen. He kept up with her exploits through her father, who Harry owls every Christmas and each of their birthdays. He knew she'd been the youngest auror graduate in sixty years and that she'd begun to make quite a name for herself in the corps. She greets him with a bright smile and a friendly hug before she makes introductions. One of the aurors is a tall woman with dark red hair and a surname Harry recognises from Hogwarts.

"Entwhistle… any relation to Kevin?" The look on her face makes it clear that the question was impolite, and has upset her, and Harry wants to kick himself. The wince makes it clear he's spoken a name it hurts her to hear - whether because it's a name she held before she transitioned, or a name of a relative who's mention is still an open wound - and he backtracks and apologises. "Sorry, you said your name was Kaia Entwhistle? Pleasure to meet you." He shakes her hand, trying to express his regret on his face before he moves onto the next auror.

They sit together in a meeting room Harry hasn't seen before to discuss a plan for retrieving the dragons before they become far more valuable to the poachers dead than alive. 

"We need someone undercover, someone unknown to the poaching community to meet with the seller," An auror, Marcs, says, after they've discussed the dragon parts already available, the seller (a regular illegal dragon ingredients seller named Munro Benton, who goes by the alias Roman Aayan) and the stall the seller regularly keeps at the illegal market in Knockturn Alley. "Ms Vangness is too well known in the dragonologist community, and Dr Potter and Mr Snape are out of the question. Sellers are too well versed in the names and faces of active aurors and we have no new recruits in training with enough experience in combat and dueling to keep themselves safe."

Harry honestly has no solution. And it seems neither does Snape. The group sits silently for a long time, thinking. 

Snape is the first one to pipe up, minutes after the silence begins. "As loathe as I am to admit it, Horace Slughorn is an experienced potions master and duelist, and while he is a well known potioneer, he is also notorious for a lack of morals. He may be our best option," He says, before turning his gaze to Harry. "But if we want him to agree, Harry needs to be the one to ask him."

"What? Me? Why?" Harry _hates_ talking to Slughorn.

Snape gives Harry an extremely exasperated glare before he explains, "Because he will see it as an opportunity to request a favour."

Right, because to Slughorn a favour is worth far more than money, and Harry can fulfil many favours. He nods his head. "Okay, yeah, I'll floo call him today, send him an owl if he doesn't answer. He'll ask for compensation, as well as the favour. Are you prepared to do that?" Harry asks the aurors.

The group looks at each other, shares a silent conversation before Marcs turns back to Harry and nods his head. "Yes, I think we can set some funds aside for Master Slughorn." The significant look he gives both Harry and Snape proves he's as well versed in Horace Slughorn's particular brand of creepy morality as they are.

"I'll send you a note when I've spoken with him. Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

Marcs shakes his head. "No, we'll be returning to the Ministry. When you contact me, give me a time and we'll have another meeting with Master Slughorn."

Harry nods his head and the group stand, exiting from the room and leaving Snape and Harry alone. 

"Once you have contacted Slughorn, we should return to the Wyverns."

Harry agrees.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Slughorn doesn't answer Harry's floo call, but just as he's writing the man a letter to send by owl a note appears in the air and Harry catches it, putting out the last of the flames with his fingers. It makes it pretty clear to Harry that he purposely missed Harry's call and heard Harry's floo message. Slughorn refuses Harry's proposal, despite the promise of money and favours. In the note, he claims the only reason is because as a potions master he can't alienate sellers, but Harry suspects there's much more to it than that, there always is with Slughorn.

"He said no," Harry tells Snape when he returns to the Wyvern's enclosure. "Which I honestly should have expected." 

"Try again, try harder," Snape tells him sternly. He's got a glass vial of one of the potions sitting on top of his palm, and he taps his wand over the vial's mouth, transferring the contents to the dragon's stomach. 

Harry frowns and takes the empty vial from Snape, lifting it to his nose to smell it. It's the _Chelidonium Miniscula_ potion. "Snape I told you not to give him any more of this."

Snape looks confused for a moment, like he truly has no idea what Harry's talking about, before his face sets back to blank. "I do not recall you telling me anything."

Harry tries to remember if he actually had said something to Snape, and while it's not unusual for him to remember a single instance, it's rare that he doesn't remember something that concerns his work. He doubts that Snape would lie to him about something like _that_ so he just says, "Okay, just, no more _Chelidonium_."

Snape nods once. "Was that the only potion you want me to stop administering?"

"Have I asked you to stop the blood replenishing and the _Draconis Magicae Adolebitque_ yet?" Snape shakes his head. "Okay, so we're stopping everything but the tonic and the murtlap essence," Harry says, before frowning and chewing at his bottom lip. "Uh, actually I don't think he needs the murtlap anymore, I'll test him before we give him another dose."

Snape nods his head once. He looks over at the wooden cupboard of potions they keep in a cave-like structure, one warded against Anguis and the whelps and says, "What would you like me to do with the potions?"

"I'll leave them with Emmaline, I've no doubt they'll make use of them here."

Snape nods again, and is silent for so long that Harry's not sure he plans to speak again - except he sort of looks like he's trying to figure out how to word something. "Is this memory loss something you regularly experience?"

Harry shoots him a look. This isn't the first borderline invasive question Snape's asked, and it's making Harry feel a bit like a potions experiment. "Can you stop analysing me, please, I've got a shrink and a pharmacist for that," he tells the man sternly. "To answer your question, yes. It's a common side effect of trauma, it's called dissociative amnesia."

"Is it common for someone with dissociative amnesia to forget more than traumatic events?"

Harry doesn't understand why Snape is so curious, but he wants to know, so he replies, "Sometimes. Everything depends on the type of trauma and how the person processes the trauma. Everyone experiences it differently."

"And your… what did you call it? Shrink? Are they a muggle?" Snape asks, and he's starting to look genuinely curious for the answer. 

"Yes, there's not many psychologists in the wizarding world. She thinks I fought for the British Armed Forces in the Afghanistan Civil War. I think she knows there's more to it then that, but I can't ever explain it to her," Harry explains, shrugging his shoulders. "You're strangely curious of my mental health, Snape."

"Severus. Severus is fine."

Harry's heart thumps slowly in his chest, and he swallows, trying to figure out what to say next. "Harry."

Snape - no, Severus - repeats Harry's name, slowly, like he's testing it in his mouth, on his tongue and Harry feels a bit like the air pressure in the enclosure has minutely dropped, not enough to make it painful, but just enough that he can feel it. He's trying to figure out what to say next when Cameron appears through the enclosure's entrance, waving politely at Harry to catch his attention. Harry reaches over and carefully squeezes Severus' bicep on his way past, meeting Cameron at the door. He pretends not to notice the thick shape of Severus' arm under his shirt.

"Hey, I heard Slughorn said no. I've told the aurors I'll do it."

-*-*-*-*-*-

Harry takes Cameron out of the enclosure and into the field, and says, "Are… are you sure? It'll be dangerous."

Cameron nods his head slowly, eyebrow furrowed like he's mulling it over in his head. "Yeah, I do know, but I want to help, and I want those dragons back."

Harry's not going to try and talk him out of it, Cameron's an adult, and he can make decisions on his own, even if they're dangerous decisions Harry doesn't completely agree with. "Thank you, Cameron."

Cameron just shrugs his shoulders, smiling kindly at Harry. "It's the least I could do." 

"How's your dueling?" Harry asks, after a brief silence, mostly just to break it. "I mean, you might need it - or well, hopefully you won't need it, but it's good to have."

Cameron stutters out a good-natured laugh. "I think I'll be okay. I'm more than well versed in dueling, but you can test me out if you'd like? Maybe tomorrow night?"

The implication is clear, and Harry realises that this is the best opportunity he'll get to tell Cameron he thinks they shouldn't go on another date. Or have sex. "Uh, look… I'm probably going to sound like an arsehole, but I was hoping we could keep last night as a… one-night-only thing?"

Disappointment flashes behind Cameron's eyes, but only for a brief moment before he shrugs his shoulders, smiling agreebly. "Eh, it was fun while it lasted. I was going to ask you to teach me how to do that thing you did with your tongue, but I'm happy to let it remain a mystery."

Harry chokes out a laugh and covers his eyes with his hands. "A guy in New York taught me _that_. I'll give you pointers."

Cameron laughs brightly. "Please do." He gives Harry a friendly pat on the shoulder and when he pulls away, he looks like he's about to turn and leave, but stops himself. "Hey, is it about Snape?"

The question blindsides Harry, and he takes a moment to let it sink into his foggy brain. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Cameron shrugs. "I just mean I can feel the tension between the two of you. You fancy him, right? And he fancies you."

Harry splutters through an answer he can't quite get out, which he's sure is doing him no favours in convincing Cameron that he doesn't fancy Snape. "No- I… no I don't, I just… we have history, that's all."

Cameron's mouth tilts up into a self-satisfied smirk, but Harry thanks Merlin that he doesn't push it. Instead he shrugs again and says, "We can still duel if you want, no sex required."

Harry appreciates the out. "Yeah, maybe, I'll let you know."

"Brilliant. Might see you at dinner later," Cameron says before he's gone.

Harry returns to the dragon enclosure, where Snape's waiting for him with bottles of dragon formula. Harry happily takes two of the bottles and tries to settle two wiggling foal-sized whelps into his lap or on the dirt beside him, getting the bottles' teats into their mouths once they're settled. 

"Cameron said he's happy to go undercover for us," Harry tells Snape after a long silence. Then after a moment he also says, "He also said the strangest thing to me after that, he thinks that we fancy each other. It's completely ridiculous of course."

Snape looks over at Harry slowly, face blank, then rolls his eyes. Harry isn't sure if he's rolling his eyes at Harry, or at the thought of them fancying each other. He doesn't even bother to speak, to elaborate. Harry opens his mouth to say something to Snape - to ask him what he thinks about Cameron's assertion, or maybe to say something else he hasn't decided on yet - but instead he lets his mouth close with a soft clack and decides to file the thought away for later.


	5. Laying in the silence, waiting for the sirens - Train Wreck by James Arthur

The day Cameron is supposed to visit the Knockturn Alley black market, Harry wakes in a good mood in the morning, with a lot more energy after managing to sleep longer the night before. The good mood barely lasts, though, when he heads to the kitchen and finds Ron and Hermione wait at the table.

He points his finger at them, scowling, and says, "No. You need to leave, now."

"Harry, we just want to ta-" Hermione begins, standing up from her chair and taking a step forward towards Harry. Harry takes a step back, and she at least has the good sense not to follow.

"You have absolutely nothing to say that I want to hear." Harry's heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels almost like a trapped animal, with too much pride to retreat and absolutely no desire to stay. He's about to tell them to leave again, when he realises they're _here_ , someone warned them he was here, that's the only way they could have known. "You knew I was here, how did you know I was here?"

"We got a letter," Ron says. Harry turns to look at him with the strongest scowl he can manage plastered on his face. He sees Ron flinch and hopes the man knows that even though Harry has questions he needs answering, he will not accept them from him. Ron shuts his mouth with a clack and Harry thinks, _good_. 

"Someone sent us a letter, telling us you were here. Harry, I'm so sorry-" Hermione begins to say before Harry interrupts 

"Hermione Granger, if a single word leaves your mouth that is about literally anything but the letter you received telling you that I was here I will stupify you and send your arses out onto the road, don't fucking test me," Harry tells her, storming past her towards the coffee machine. "After everything you did to me, you don't deserve anything from me."

Hermione looks like she's trying to hold back something she desperately wants to say, and Harry feels eighteen again, standing in front of them and Ginny, heart breaking all over again. They'd been the only friends he'd ever had, and they'd discarded their friendship so easily, just because he'd not followed some set, designed plan of how his life, how their lives were going to play out. How they wanted their lives to play out together. His heart doesn't feel broken anymore, not really - he feels the echo of it in chest still, sometimes - but he's still angry, so angry that he feels like the anger will suffocate him.

"What did the letter say?" He says slowly, hoping to calm the rage rising in his chest by turning his thoughts to something else. "I need to know what the letter said."

Hermione chews on her bottom lip for a second and looks like she's trying to remember exactly what it said so she can quote it verbatim. " _Mr and Mrs Weasley, Harry Potter has returned to Great Britain. If you want to see him, you'll find him at the Welsh Dragon Institute for Research and Rehabilitation in Llanelwy, Wales. He's rehabilitating a dragon who needs a considerable amount of care, so he will be in Wales for a fair amount of time. God's speed. An interested party._ "

Harry sets his mug down on the counter with a clatter and glares at the two of them. "You didn't find a letter from a stranger about a person you haven't seen in decades a tiny bit suspicious? Are you dense?"

"We just wanted to see you, Har-" Ron tries before Harry cuts him off.

"I am an adult who made a decision fifteen years ago not to have contact with toxic people, respect that decision or expect the payback I never gave you," Harry snaps, reaching for his wand, hoping they'll finally understand that he isn't playing. "I have the right to decide not to forgive you. I have the right to decide that you don't deserve any part of me or my life. You've told me all I needed to know. You can leave now."

"Harry, please-"

Harry pulls the wand from the holster in his shirt and points it. He knows he won't do it, he's had a strict no-violence policy since the war, he doesn't think he'd even punch them, but they don't know that, he doesn't want them to know that. He wants them to think he'll do it, he wants their hearts to break, he wants them to feel betrayed. It's not his greatest quality, he and his psychologist both know it, but it's a feeling he can hold onto right now, something stronger than the way he felt when they did what they did. "Leave."

Hermione whispers another _I'm sorry_ before they apparate out, and Harry can see the shine of tears in her eyes. Harry's own sting from holding his tears back, and he rubs at them with the back of his hand before he turns back to the counter and braces his hands against the ceramic, wand falling onto the surface and rolling away with a clatter. The machine to his left is still dripping coffee, slowly, and Harry tries to time his breaths to match it. Drip, breathe in, drip, breathe out. Drip, breathe in, drip, breathe out.

-*-*-*-*-*-

When the panic attack subsides he stands back and lets his hands drop to his side, taking a deep breath in before he reaches for his coffee mug again. He underestimates how much his hand is shaking and loses his grip on the handle, watching it fall to the floor before it and the spilt coffee from inside stops, just above the ground and rights itself. The coffee pours back into the mug and the mug sets itself back on top of the counter before someone with long fingers and pale skin is taking his hands gently into their own.

"Harry, you are shaking, you need to sit down."

Harry lets himself be led over to the table and sat into a chair. Severus sits beside him, hands still in Harry's and Harry looks up at him, into his eyes, at the endless depth of ink, of stretches of the sky at midnight when the clouds cover the moon. He's not seen Severus' eyes this close since that night in the shrieking shack, and that night had been too dark and too distracting for Harry to really see them. Now, he realises that Severus' eyes aren't just black; they're a deep, dark brown around his pupil, so dark Harry almost can't tell it apart from the black it blends into the closer it gets to the white of his eyes. 

Severus' chest is moving in a very precise way, in and out, in and out, and Harry realises Severus thinks he's still having a panic attack. Maybe he is. Everything but the colour of Severus' eyes feels like white noise. He tries to match his breathing to Severus', breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth and holds onto Severus' shoulders for dear life. (He could've sworn he was holding Severus' hands, but now the man Harry's face in his hands and Harry has both of his on Severus' shoulders.) Until he feels like he can breathe again, until he feels like the room around him, the sound of Severus' voice, the drip of the coffee machine, the hum of the refrigerator is no longer a jumble of white noise and he can distinguish each sound from the others. 

Harry blinks a couple times and looks around the room before settling back on Severus. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the other man replies, pulling his arms away from Harry (which Harry decides he does _not_ like) to summon a glass and fill it with water using an _aguamenti_ , carefully handing it to Harry. He holds Harry's hands in his as Harry lifts the glass to his mouth, like he's worried he'll drop it (and Harry's still not entirely sure he wont). Once Harry has finished the water he asks, "Do you feel better?"

"Mostly," Harry says, nodding slowly, letting his hands fall from Severus' shoulders though he's really not sure he wants them to. "Sorry."

"Harry, do not ever apologise for having a genuine reaction to traumatic stimuli, it's your mind's natural defence, it is not something to be ashamed of." Severus says it so sincerely, yet with such finality, like it isn't an argument whether to be ashamed of his panic attacks, and Harry wishes he could be so sure. "Do you want to talk about what happened with Weasley and Granger?"

Harry wasn't expecting Severus to care enough to ask, but he's absolutely nothing like Harry remembers from his last encounters with the man. He finds he really wants to tell Severus the truth. "Yeah, if, uh, that's okay with you?"

"I would not have asked if I had not meant it."

Harry nods his head and leans his elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his fist, blinking at Severus. "Particularly boring story of bigotry really. During the last year of the war, I figured out I was gay - while we were on the run, too, surprised I had enough energy for it. A couple of months after Voldemort was dead I broke up with Ginny - which, I hadn't even realised two kisses meant we were together, so that was a bit annoying. It did _not_ go over well, at all. Things were said, on both sides, but I didn't admit to being gay then. She did make it pretty clear - even if she didn't tell me - that the reason she wanted to be with me in the first place was for the fame and validation she never felt like she received in her family." Harry frowns at the coffee mug he left on the counter and floats it over to his hand, reheating it before taking a sip. "I never understood that, she was the baby, the only girl. She was the only one who ever got her own clothes. I'd've thought Ron, the youngest boy of six, would have the biggest inferiority complex - though his was pretty bad - but no, guess not," Harry says, chuckling mirthlessly, staring down into his coffee mug with raised eyebrows. "Anyway, we broke up, and Ron was pretty pissed at me. He got it into his head that the only way we could be close, be brothers, was for me to marry Ginny. Hermione was upset because she thought I'd cheated on Ginny. We barely talked for a couple months, then I stopped by the Burrow to tell them I'd decided not to go into the auror corps after I completed my NEWTS. I'd actually been speaking to Charlie for months about coming to Romania to intern at the sanctuary, so I told them my plan to become a dragonologist." Harry remembers that moment, the rage on Ron's face, his skin so red it almost matched his hair. He couldn't understand why Ron had become so enraged. 

He doesn't realise he'd been quiet for so long when Severus says, "It made Weasley angrier."

Harry nods his head. "We got into a fist fight, he broke my nose, I broke his eye socket. Anyway, the others stopped it, and when we were separated, he was still sort of needling at me: _'why would you throw your life away like this'_ , _'why won't you marry Ginny, you loved her once'_. It just sort of… burst out of me. _'I'm gay Ron, that's why I won't marry Ginny. And I won't be joining you in the aurors because I'm sick and fucking tired of fighting, and I'm sick of killing.'_ Or something along those lines."

Severus nods his head slowly, brow furrowed like he's working through what Harry's just told him. "And when you told them this, how did they react?"

Harry raises his eyebrows again, and lets out another breath of mirthless laughter. "Badly. Ginny lost her absolute shit at me, Ron called me all sort of fun names, Hermione even had her own crack at me. Hermione was mad I lied to them for so long, which made me so fucking livid, I can't lie, if I didn't even know. Anyway, all of that I could forget, except Ron turned around and he told me that he wished he'd never met me, that I died with my parents. Then none of the people he loved would've died to save me. He told me that every single death was on my hands and I would never be able to wash the blood from my skin. It… I felt like my heart was breaking in two. Molly was so mad at him, she… she actually slapped, sent him, Hermione and Ginny out of the house. I love that woman, but that night she made it worse by choosing me over her children. Ron found me outside Grimmauld Place one day, got the jump on me. I was in Mungo's for a week."

When Harry looks over at Severus, the man looks like he's barely holding back the horror. Harry would be too. "Did you tell anyone, was he arrested?"

"I did, tried to have him arrested and charged. Ginny knew what he'd done and stood behind him, Hermione couldn't tell either way, but she stood behind him too," Harry shakes his head. "The night I got out of Saint Mungo's, I found myself at Hermione and Ron's flat, staring at it from across the street. I almost set it on fire, and let it burn with them inside. I would have done it, I wanted to do it, but for some reason, as I stared at that flat, I remembered the night Quirrell died, the night I purposely took a life for the first time. I remembered the smell of the flames, the way Quirrell's skin crumbled under my hands as he turned into ash and I… well I threw up and apparated away. I was in Romania the next day."

"Merlin, Harry."

"I don't want pity, Snape, that's not why I told you this story," Harry says, standing from his seat to make himself another coffee.

"I do not pity you, Harry. I am utterly astounded at the courage it must have taken to become the man you are today despite your hardships. You are incredible."

Harry's heart hammers in his chest as he turns back to Severus. The man looks more sincere than Harry's ever seen him, and that look in his eye, it isn't pity, it's amazement. Harry wants to kiss him. Maybe he does fancy the man after all.

Emmaline and Cameron enter the room, interrupting Harry before he can do something stupid, and he's both grateful for it and upset by it.

"Morning," he greets them, with as much cheer as he can muster. "Today's the day, huh?"

Cameron nods. He looks determined. "Yes, today's the day.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Cameron leaves for the Knockturn Alley market at midday and is gone for hours. Far longer than any of them had expected. Long enough that the aurors are almost ready to send out a search party when he finally returns with a bag of dragon parts, metaphorically empty handed.

"I tried to say I was interested in more, and willing to pay dearly for it, but the guy just claimed what he had was all he had, and he couldn't get any more," Cameron says. He's set the bag down on Emmaline's desk, and it makes Harry's belly swoop every time his eyes pass over it. "I'll try again, I won't fail this time."

"Cameron, why would you buy this from him?" Emmaline asks quietly.

Cameron's head whips around to look at the woman, eyes wide. Without a moment's thought he tells her, "I needed him to trust me, for the next time. I needed him to know I was willing to do whatever it took to get other ingredients."

Harry's not sure why, but his gut is telling him something's off, that something's going on. His gut has never steered him wrong. When he looks over at Severus, the other man is staring back at him, face unreadable, but Harry thinks he knows the man well enough to be able to tell he's thinking the exact same thing. Something isn't right, and they're going to get to the bottom of it.


	6. You dug your own grave, now lie in it - I See Red by Everbody Loves An Outlaw

Cameron returns to the market every few days. Every time he's gone for hours and he comes back with nothing but more illicit potions ingredients, with a promise of _next time, next time_. It makes the suspicion niggling in the back of his mind niggle harder, and the looks he's been sharing with Snape have become more frequent.

A fortnight following Cameron's first visit to the market, once Cameron has left for it again, Harry corners Severus in the Wyvern's enclosure and says, "We have to figure out what's going on."

"Yes, that is clear, but do you have a plan for how you intend to do that?" Severus asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"I don't like it. And you aren't going to like it either," Harry tells him, shaking his head. Severus nods slowly, like he's encouraging Harry to continue. "I need to see that letter, I need to find out where it came from. I know it's involved somehow."

Severus' face is blank as he says, "No."

"Severus, I hav-"

Severus interrupts Harry by taking his face into his hands and keeping him there. "No, Harry, I will not let you risk your health for this. This will not be the only plan we can concoct."

It suddenly occurs to Harry the Severus touches him - _a lot_ \- and he really fucking likes it. Harry stares at Severus for a second, trying to figure out exactly what is happening between the two of them right now before deciding any sort of thought on the topic is an exercise in futility. Instead he says, "I'm going. You know how stubborn I am, nothing you can say right now will make me stay."

Severus sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "Fine. I suppose I'll be escorting you then."

Harry doesn't argue. Despite how determined he is to go, he doesn't want to go alone, and he was rather hoping the other man would offer to join him. "Thanks. We should go soon, get back before Cameron does. I don't know if they still live in the same flat, so we might need time to track them from it if they don't."

Severus nods his head. "Alright, so we leave now."

They find their coats and once they're outside, Harry takes Severus' wrist and apparates them to London, setting them in an alley off the main street. He looks around him afterwards, to make sure they weren't seen, then nods his head when he decides they weren't. He leaves his hand around Severus' wrist until they reach the door to Ron and Hermione's flat. He doesn't realise he's shaking until he lifts his hand to knock, and he can see the tremor in his fist as he presses it to the door. He manages to rap on the door a couple times before his hand falls to his side again.

They don't have to wait long; the door is answered in seconds by a little girl, no older than ten or eleven, with bright red hair who bares a startling resemblance to Ginny when Harry first met her in 1991. Definitely the right house.

She stares at the both of them for a long time, without saying a word, and Harry finds it hard to speak, himself, so Severus speaks for him. "Would you please retrieve your mother or father."

The girl shuts the door and Harry can hear her yelling _'Mum!'_ , _'Dad!'_ as she shuffles further into the house. Harry turns back to look at Severus who levels a look on Harry that he can't quite decipher, but still partly calms his frayed nerves.

They wait for almost a minute before the door is pulled open again and Hermione is standing there, wiping her hands with a tea towel. Her eyes grow wide and she almost drops the towel, catching it before she loses her grip on it. "Harry," she says breathlessly, eyebrows knitted together. After another moment, she sees Severus behind him and the frown in her brow deepens. "Master Snape." Then she turns back to Harry and begins to say, "Harry I'm so glad you-"

Harry interrupts her. "I'm not here to talk about that. I need to see the letter you were sent."

Hermione blinks her eyes a few times, and Harry almost misses the shine in them before she's nodding. "Come in, I'll get it for you."

Harry doesn't want to go in, in fact he'd much rather apparate them the _fuck_ out of there. He swallows around a lump in his throat and says, "We'll stay out here, if you don't mind."

Hermione winces, almost imperceptibly, then nods once, shutting the door behind her as she heads back inside. Harry takes a step back, heart thumping in his chest, and almost trips on the edge of a step. Severus catches him before he can fall, sliding an arm around his body from behind and righting him before retreating. Despite the mere flash of contact, Harry misses it as soon as it's gone. 

Hermione returns with the letter and hands it over to Harry, opening her mouth to say something, before thinking better of it and letting it shut with a clack. Harry thanks her quietly, and he can no longer look her in the eyes, so he turns on his heels and walks back down the steps, towards the street. Severus follows behind him. 

They apparate back to the sanctuary and Harry takes a second to breathe in and out slowly, to calm his racing heartbeat. He closes his eyes and listens to the wind whistle through the trees, the whistles of a flock of birds settled into a tree to his left talking to each other, the _swish_ of the wind through the grass. He counts each breath until he reaches twenty before he feels like he can finally open his eyes again.

"Are you alright, Harry," Severus asks, voice soft, quiet, barely there. 

Harry turns his head to look at him and smiles gently, nodding his head. "Yeah, it's easier when I know it's happening, I can control the reaction." He looks down at the letter in his hands and says, "Let's get this show on the road." 

Harry casts the tracking spell on the letter and makes sure he's holding onto Severus before the spell pulls them to where the letter was sent from. They land in the middle of Cameron's living room, easily identifiable by the record player and the crup that jumps from its bed and yips at Harry's heels, looking for attention. "Fuck," Harry mutters. "I was really hoping I was wrong."

-*-*-*-*-*-

Harry storms up to the bedroom he's been occupying since he arrived as soon as they apparate back to the sanctuary and Severus follows him. Harry rips the letter to pieces with a flick of his hand, then burns each of the pieces, effectively destroying it before he begins pacing back and forth across the room. Severus takes a seat at the desk underneath the window and Harry sees him watching Harry pace, his face set into a blank expression and his hands settled into his lap.

"Look, right now, I can't be entirely sure he didn't write that letter cause he was pissed off I slept with him and then told him it was essentially a one night stand," Harry says, rubbing his eyelids with his thumb and middle finger, palm covering his eyes. "I think we should follow him when he goes out again."

Severus shoots Harry a look. "I am no longer a spy, Harry, and I have no desire to get more involved in this than I have already chosen to be."

Harry sighs deeply and falls onto the bed across from Severus in the desk chair. "Neither do I. I left this all behind almost two decades ago, and I'd like to keep it that way, but I also won't be able to live with myself if I don't do this," he tells the other man, resting his elbows on his knees and setting his chin on his fists. He shakes his head and says, "And we don't have enough evidence to take it to the aurors, they can't do anything about it. But we can."

Severus breathes in sharply through his nose. "I do not agree with it, but I will go with you, if only to keep you from getting yourself killed."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Harry replies with a snort.

Severus rolls his eyes - Harry would say almost dramatically, if it wasn't Severus Snape he was talking about - and says, "I have more confidence in you than you might think. To get yourself injured."

"Har, har. You're hilarious, Severus Snape, if only I'd known that in school." Severus' joke makes something warm grow in Harry's chest, something like fondness, and he lets the fondness show on his face. He doesn't think Severus notices. "C'mon, we should check on Anguis and the whelps."

Severus nods his head and he's the first to stand up, righting his clothes before he makes his way towards the door, Harry on his heels.

-*-*-*-*-*-

On Cameron's next visit to Knockturn Alley, Harry and Severus follow him just under a minute after he's left, so he doesn't know they're following, but they don't lose him in the ensuing crowd. They're wearing thick cloaks with the hoods pulled up over their heads because they can't use magic to hide their identity with the warding and anti-foe spells that pervade the markets. They don't stick out despite the hoods, they're definitely not the only ones with their identities hidden, which minutely calms the racing of Harry's heart.

They follow Cameron as he weaves effortlessly through the stalls and the people, and Harry follows him, careful to keep the man in his eyesight at all times. Severus has his fingers in Harry's cloak, holding on, pressed close to Harry's back to make sure they aren't separated.

Cameron leads them to a stall ten minutes into weaving through the market and they stand to the stall's left, pretending to peruse the wares of another seller's table (mostly restricted potions and herbs). Cameron falls into a conversation with the stall's seller, one Harry can't hear, and one far too friendly for acquaintances. They watch them talk for less than five minutes before Cameron is taking ingredients from the stall (without paying for them), and disappearing behind it before Severus and Harry can follow.

"Fuck," Harry mutters, searching for Cameron, coming up short - of the man himself, and where he could have gone. He turns back to Severus and says, "C'mon, let's go back to the sanctuary."

They find their way back out of the market and Harry takes Severus' wrist into his hand, apparating them back to the sanctuary. Once again, Cameron doesn't return for hours, and when he does, he has several dragon toes, and Harry thinks very seriously about throwing up.


	7. Even the fires on the road - Sounds of Someday by Radio Company

They spend another couple of weeks following Cameron to the market, watching him talk with the seller - never for more than five minute - before disappearing into the wall behind the stall. If he goes through a doorway, it's never there when Harry and Severus follow him.

On what's closing in on Cameron's tenth visit to the market and Harry and Severus' fourth, Harry sees Cameron looking behind him every few minutes and he realises Cameron suspects - or perhaps knows - he's being followed. When's standing at the stall his eyes sweep across the crowd and they stay in Harry and Severus' direction for longer than he's comfortable with. 

Harry takes Severus' hand and drags him into a doorway across the thin alley from the stall, making sure they're visible enough that Cameron's suspicions are eased, but also hidden enough that if he did look this way he wouldn't recognise them. Severus makes a confused noise in the back of his throat as Harry presses them both into the wall, his back to it and Severus shoved into his front. He keeps his chin hooked over Severus' shoulder (and he's really mad that he has to be up on his toes to reach) so he can continue to watch Cameron (who keeps looking back at them with squinted, suspicious eyes), and the man is stiff as a board in his arms.

"Could you please relax? Unless you want Cameron to know we're following him?" Harry mutters, cupping his hands around the back of Severus' shoulders. Cameron is still frowning at them, and he takes a fews steps forward, away from the stall and towards Severus and Harry, and Harry hisses, "Severus, for Merlin's sake, you were a spy, be a damned spy."

The tension in Severus' body melts, at least partly, and before Harry realises what he's doing, Severus reaches down and hooks his hand under Harry's knee, getting his leg curved around his hip. Harry's heart thumps in his chest, and he tightens his hands around Severus's shoulders, holding on and shifting his weight so he doesn't fall. Severus is pressed so close to Harry with a warm hand wrapped around the underside of his thigh makes it very hard to focus, but he manages, watching Cameron as he turns back to the seller and says something to the man. 

Harry's about to say something, tell Severus he can stop because Cameron isn't watching anymore (even if he really doesn't want to), except he doesn't get a chance to because Severus takes the… _initiative_ to start imitating rolling his hips, barely _inches_ away from Harry's groin. _Motherfucker_. Harry's brain forgets how to work for a moment, and he almost misses Cameron stepping away from the stall with his usual bag of dragon parts and towards a doorway Harry's never seen before, in an area he's sure he's looked at millions of times. He pulls out from under Severus and takes a hold of his wrist, pulling the man towards the door before it disappears again. 

The door closes behind Cameron and magic shivers through it before it’s gone, mere seconds before Harry and Severus reach it. “Fuck.” Harry swears when he’s standing in front of a brick wall. He can feel the magic behind it, and maybe if he put enough effort into it he could break the protection, concealment and locking charms, but he doesn’t want to alert anyone inside without anyone to back them up. He turns to Severus and whispers, “We know there’s a doorway here now, and not an apparition point, next time we just catch the door before it closes.”

Severus looks doubtful, but he nods his agreement and they start the walk back to the end of the anti-apparition wards that surround Knockturn Alley.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Harry wakes early the next time Cameron is supposed to visit Knockturn Alley (his tenth, which is starting to make the aurors suspicious, too), awash with nerves, and gets ready before taking himself down to Anguis and the whelps’ enclosure to give them a quick check up. Severus is already there (Harry knew he woke up early, but this is stupidly _early_ ) and he’s in the storage room, with Anguis trying to peek his head inside to see what he’s doing. He’s too big for the doorway, he can barely fit his nose inside and he keeps sniffing at Severus. The whelps are tackling each other into the dirt, snapping their jaws at each other playfully, and Harry smiles fondly at them.

“I think he’s got you cornered,” Harry calls out to Severus when he gets close enough for the man to be able to hear. Anguis heard him too, and almost like a crup puppy would, he wiggles his nose out of the doorway and stomps his way towards Harry, tail thumping against the ground. He bumps Harry with his snout, hard enough that he almost pushes Harry over, and Harry laughs. “What’s up with you this morning. You trying to tell us you want something?”

The dragon circles Harry and pushes at his shoulder with its snout until Harry walks forward, towards where Severus is, cutting three equal sized pieces off of a cow for the whelps. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I can’t make him go any faster,” he tells Anguis, reaching over to pet the dragon comfortingly, smiling at him gently. He gets shoved forward again and he laughs. “Alright, alright. Wait here.”

Anguis falls onto his hind legs almost like a crup would (Harry’s starting to wonder if he really is just a great big puppy) and blinks at Harry expectantly. Harry rolls his eyes and steps inside the storage room, shooting Severus a smile.

“He’s being demanding. Can I take the big bit for him?” Severus nods and waves the piece closer to Harry before going back to chopping the last bit off for the whelps. Harry floats the meat over to Anguis and tells the dragon very sternly, “If you’re going to burn it first, take it away from the trees before you set them on fire again.”

The dragon looks at Harry, almost put out, before doing as told, taking the meat out to a rocky outcrop before he sets it alight and gobbles it down. When Severus is finished with the whelps’ breakfasts, Harry helps him take it over to them, leaving them a fair distance away from each other so there’s no fighting.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Harry asks Severus as they stand side by side, watching the four dragons eat.

“No. I intended to return and make coffee before you awoke.”

“Coffee isn’t breakfast. C’mon, I’ll make some eggs and toast.”

Severus follows him out of the enclosure without a word and back to the house. It’s quiet, everyone else asleep, but Harry still makes more than necessary for the two of them for when they do wake. He leaves the eggs under a warming charm and sets down a plate in front of Severus, next to his coffee cup, sitting himself and his own breakfast down across the table. They eat in silence, even if Harry wants to say something (something he hasn’t quite figured out just yet).

The kitchen fills with a flurry of activity as they’re finishing, other members of the team waking and getting ready for the day. Harry makes more toast, and a woman he’s only spoken to once before, Maureen, gets out the bacon, cooking all of it up until it’s crispy and dishing it out to the others at the table. Harry takes a piece, but Severus shakes his head, taking his plate, cutlery and mug to the sink and washing them all clean. 

Cameron appears as Harry’s writing a quick letter to his assistant, something he’s been rather lax on while he’s been in Wales, mostly to ask after everyone and make sure no one’s burnt the place down in his absence. Cameron smiles cheerily and Harry matches it, though it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I think I’ll probably be able to get the seller to let me see the dragons today, we’ve been building a rapport over the last few weeks.”

Harry nods his head. “Good, come back when you’ve seen where it is and we’ll tell the aurors,” Harry says, despite knowing it’ll never come to that. “Just be safe. Don’t put yourself in any unnecessary danger.”

Cameron nods, and he has the gall to glance fondly at Harry. Harry’s about to throw the entire plan out the window just to punch the man in the face. “I will, promise.”

When he leaves, Severus and Harry follow.

They weave their way through the market, following behind Cameron, watching as he speaks to the seller and takes some of the ingredients. And then they watch as he disappears through the doorway. Before the door can shut and disappear into the wall, Harry sends a wedge between it and the frame, leaving it open enough to get through after a few moments when they’re sure Cameron is gone.

The door leads them into a room full of boxes with a desk and three filing cabinets against one wall, and another door against the other. Harry checks the other door for alarms before he opens it and lets the two of them inside, into a warehouse. When he steps past the threshold, he can tell he’s stepped through a portal, and that they aren’t anywhere in Knockturn Alley anymore. He can’t tell exactly, but he suspects it’s still London, probably the warehouse district.

The warehouse is filled from floor to ceiling with crates of different sizes and shapes. Everyone Harry can see is filled, with magic creatures and muggle creatures alike, most endangered, and all extremely valuable. There’s a Sumatran elephant in a large cage close to them, and it looks so tired and beat down, laying on the floor with its head tucked over its legs, that Harry’s heart breaks in his chest and his eyes sting. 

He makes himself look away, and finally, after some searching, he finds the two Oceanic Wyverns, sitting in cages side by side. They look lethargic, like they’ve been drugged, and Harry’s sadness turns into utter righteous indignation. Cameron stands in front of the two cages, staring down at a clipboard a woman is holding out for him. He nods his head at something she says, and waves his hand dismissively at her, sending her away. As Harry watches, Cameron stares up at the dragons, says something to them, and laughs. It makes something ugly and black settle into the pit of Harry’s stomach.

Harry turns to Severus who raises an eyebrow and nods his head.

Before they leave, Harry slightly alters the anti-apparition wards - not enough to alert anyone, but enough to get them out and the aurors in when they return.

-*-*-*-*-*-

When they return to the sanctuary, Emmaline’s office is empty, so Harry pulls Severus inside and sets up the floor, calling into Charlotte’s office at the Ministry.

“Harry, Master Snape, is everything alright?” She asks in lieu of a greeting. “It’s a bit early to be calling me, isn’t it?”

“We’ve found where they’re being kept, and…” Harry looks back at Severus before he finishes what he says. Mostly for the courage to say it, he thinks. “And Cameron’s working for them. He’s been disappearing into the warehouse every time he visits the stall, and he’s been… distracting me. First, it was with himself, and when that didn’t work, he sent a letter to Ron and Hermione Weasley telling them that I was here.”

“You’re sure?” Charlotte asks, and Harry nods his head. “How?” Harry explains everything, with Severus interjecting vital facts Harry misses occasionally. “Alright, and-”

“Oh! And you’ll need to contact the muggle authorities, they’re holding endangered animals, both magical and muggle. There was a Sumatran elephant, and I think I saw a Bengal tiger and an African Wild Dog.”

Charlotte nods her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “Okay, that complicates things. Cooperation with muggle authorities will take time. I need you to keep this information to yourselves until the suspect’s next scheduled visit to Knockturn Alley. And I’m going to have to inform my superiors that you both followed him without advising us. She may bring consequences on the both of you. You may be war heroes, but you are still civilians, and you could have gotten yourselves killed.” She snorts and shakes her head at Harry’s raised eyebrow. “Well, perhaps not killed, but you could have certainly jeopardised this entire operation.” 

“I know Charlotte, but I had no evidence, nothing that you could have gone on. I did what I had to and I’d do it again, Charlotte,” Harry replies. “And if you don’t want civilians involved in the process you’ll have to deputise us, because we’ll be coming with you when you raid the warehouse.”

Charlotte groans, and her hand appears to scrub at her eyes. “No wonder my dad always called you a pain in the arse. Fine, I’ll send the paperwork over after I’ve spoken to my supervisor.”

“Thank you, Madam Blois,” Severus says genially, nodding his head once.

“If you pulas get me reprimanded, I swear to Merlin, I will hex you so bad.” Harry laughs, though he tries not to. “I’m not joking, Harry.”

“I didn’t think you were, and I will accept any punishment you see fit.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him and ends the floo call abruptly. Harry climbs to his feet and dusts soot from his pants just as Emmaline enters the room.

“Is everything alright?”

Harry nods. “Fine. I was calling my assistant, the Quetzalcoatl I was caring for in Australia has fallen pregnant, I asked him to tell me when it had happened.” He smiles at her, surprised at how easily he’d come up with the lie and trying not to show it on his face. 

“And Severus? Is everything alright?” Emmaline asks the other man.

“Of course. I was simply waiting for Harry to finish his call to talk to him about Anguis’s potion schedule.”

Emmaline nods her head, smiling, but there’s a look in her eyes like she doesn’t quite believe Harry and Severus, but she’s far too polite to say anything to either of them. “How is Anguis?”

“Mostly healed, I think we can stop the dragon tonic soon,” Harry says the last bit to Severus who nods his head, to keep up the charade. “So no need to make any more of it.”

Severus nods his head in understanding.

Emmaline frowns at the suspiciously, but she doesn’t ask. She knows how important this is and Harry figures she probably knows they have a good reason to keep it to themselves.


	8. With my heart on a trigger - Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab

Severus and Harry follow Cameron through Knockturn Alley again, past the market, through the secret doorway and into the warehouse. The small apparition point Harry left two days before is still there, untouched by another’s magic, and Harry sets an alert inside it, so the aurors have something to lead them through. They then hide again, while they wait, behind the elephant’s cage with a _Notice-Me-Not_ spell around the two of them. It’s empty now, no doubt waiting for a new occupant, and Harry pushes down the bile rising in his throat. A hand wraps around Harry’s wrist and squeezes gently, and he takes a deep, steadying breath, letting the contact soothe his frayed nerves.

The muggle authorities enter first, banging their way through the doors with a few wizards to protect them from spell fire before the aurors pop in through the apparition point. Harry takes down the _Notice-Me-Not_ and pulls Severus through the fray, shielding the both of them from stray spells with flicks of his free wrist, heading straight for the dragons. They’re still drugged, lethargic and slow, but awake enough to hiss threateningly at them. Harry sticks his hand through the bars of one of the cages - despite knowing it's a sure-fire way to lose it - and waits, whispering soothingly to the frightened thing.

“Smell me, I promise you’re okay, just smell me, you’ll smell something you know, I promise,” He tells the creature, over and over again until it finally wiggles forward, shuffling around Harry’s hand. The Wyvern’s pupils dilate and it presses it’s snout into Harry’s hand. It makes a sound almost like a whimper, and Harry pets it gently before stepping back and breaking the cage’s lock, wrenching open the door. “I’m going to take you both to him, and the whelps, they’re all fine. And we’ll get you two healed up.”

The dragon tries to shuffle out of the cage, but it’s still too weak, and Harry pets it’s snout again before going over to the other dragon and repeating the process. 

There’s yelling behind him, but it’s quiet, almost like Harry’s underwater, but he doesn’t miss Severus calling his name. He turns, just in time to put up a blocking shield as a spell that feels like a stinging hex wizzes towards him, from Cameron’s wand. Harry flicks his wrist in retaliation, tying the man with a binding hex and letting him drop to the ground with a grunt.

Harry turns to Severus, who’s holding his bicep as blood spills weakly through his fingers. Harry leaves the dragons to check on the man, moving his fingers away from the wound. It’s a small burn, small droplets of blood welling up at the site, the aftermath of a spell grazing him. 

“What happened?” Harry asks, opening the rip in Severus’s shirt a little further so he can heal the wound with a whispered spell. It goes away easily, and Harry makes a mental note to remind Severus to take a blood-replenishing potion when they return to the sanctuary. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

Harry supervises most of the magical creatures’ transport to a sanctuary in Northern Ireland, while Severus supervises the dragons’ transport to Wales. There had been other dragons inside the warehouse - a Quetzalcoatl, a Heridean mating pair, and five unhatched Fireball eggs - as well as the Wyverns. They meet back up in the warehouse, in the back office where the aurors are holding Cameron while they search through the filing cabinets.

“Anything interesting?” Harry asks Charlotte. She shakes her head and shows Harry the dozens of blank parchments and empty file holders. “What the fuck?”

She shrugs her shoulders. 

Harry looks over at Cameron, who’s tied to a chair in the middle of the room, looking twitchy and angry. His mouth is set into a scowl as he watches Charlotte search through the empty filing cabinet, and he looks like he’s mumbling something, something Harry can’t hear. Cameron seems angry in a different way than someone who’s been caught, angry like someone who’s been betrayed. Cameron looks over at Harry, for only a moment, then looks back at the filing cabinet. 

Harry shares a look with Severus, and the other man tilts his head to the side, squinting. Harry thinks he knows Severus well enough by now to guess the man is trying to tell him he has a theory he plans to test out and he wants Harry’s back up. At least, Harry hopes that’s what he’s trying to say. He nods.

“Who do you work for Cameron, and where are they?”

Half a dozen sets of eyes flick to Severus as he speaks, and Charlotte goes to say something - most likely to ask him where he got the impression that Cameron _wasn’t_ the boss - but Cameron interrupts her.

“I know I won’t get full immunity, but I’ll tell you if they promise to halve the normal sentence for poaching,” he says, mouth set into a hard line. “I didn’t start this, I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t live on what the sanctuary was paying me. I did what I had to, and when I didn’t need it anymore, I was too involved and they wouldn’t let me out.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “We won’t be lenient on you, Mr. Boyle, but perhaps, rather than sending you to Azkaban, we could snap your wand and send you to a muggle prison. They’ll be kinder to you there.”

Cameron opens his mouth to say something, only to let it shut with a clack a second later as he thinks about what she’s said. The corner of his mouth twitches, before he finally replies, “Fine. When I started working at the sanctuary, I was raising my younger sisters. Our parents died in the war and I was all they had left. My pay wasn’t enough, they needed things, for school, therapy, so she said she could help me supplement my income.”

“She?” Harry asks, brow furrowed.

“Emmaline.”

Harry’s eyes flick to Severus, the man’s face blank but for the twitching in the corner of one of his eyes.

“Emmaline Vangness has been running the Wales Institute for thirty years, she’s been a part of great leaps in stronger laws for poaching and the regulations of dragon products,” Charlotte says, eyes dark as she approaches Cameron, leaning over him threateningly. “Why should we believe you?”

Cameron doesn’t have anything to say to that. Instead he says, “She didn’t have a hand in the poaching of the Wyverns, she knew it would send Harry her way, but when she had them, she wouldn’t let them go. She told me to distract him, any way possible. I was instructed to sleep with him, and then contact the Weasleys when that didn’t work. She’s the reason Snape was sent here instead of another potions master, she hoped they’d be antagonistic enough to be preoccupied, but when she realised they weren’t fighting, she told me to distract them other ways. She told me to give them _Amortentia_ , but I knew they’d both sniff it out before they’d ingest it, so I implied they fancied each other.”

“And when that didn’t work?” Harry asks.

“But it did! I mean, I’d hoped something would’ve happened earlier, but you were still distracted with each other, and she told me it would be enough for now,” Cameron replies, twitching in his binds. “I told her it wouldn’t work, you hated each other in school, no way you’d have any nice feelings towards each other, but it did. You were the couple in Knockturn, in the doorway. It _worked_.”

Severus snorts. “Clearly not well enough.”

“We need to get back to the sanctuary before Emmaline flees,” Harry tells Charlotte, who nods her head urgently.

-*-*-*-*-*-

They apparate back to the sanctuary and storm inside, spreading out through the house in different directions, looking for Emmaline. Harry and Severus follow Charlotte up the stairs and point out Emmaline’s bedroom.

She’s inside, two open trunks on her bed, flinging clothes from her closet inside them. She doesn’t see them enter, but she can’t miss Charlotte calling out for the other aurors. She turns around to them with her wand raised.

"Please tell me you're packing for a reason other than fleeing after your smuggling operation was raided,” Harry says, sighing, disappointed. He’d really hoped Cameron was lying. 

Emmaline doesn’t say anything. Whether it’s because she has nothing to say or she doesn’t give herself the chance though, Harry doesn’t know. Instead, she flicks her wand and sends a stinging hex towards the three of them, landing it in the middle of a shield Charlotte flings up to protect them. She continues to fling spells at them, going as far as throwing a crucio Harry’s way that Severus protects him from, that Harry almost misses. Before that point, Charlotte’s only spells had been deflective, but when Emmaline uses an Unforgivable, Charlotte shoots an _expelliarmus_ and a _petrificus totalus_ her way in quick succession. Emmaline’s wand flies from her hand, the force of both spells sending her backwards into a desk, her head cracking into the corner of it. She drops to the floor, immobilised, eyes wide as blood seeps into the carpet.

“Ah, fuck,” Charlotte says, rushing to Emmaline, turning her stiff body onto her side so she can see the wound in the back of her head. She shoots two strong healing spells at the wound, but the blood keeps rushing. “Ah, fuck.”

Harry kind of wants her to die. But he knows if she does, Charlotte will be in trouble and Emmaline will never pay for the things she’s done. He kneels beside Charlotte and fits his hand around the wound on Emmaline’s head. 

While most people knew Harry could do wandless and wordless magic by the year following the War, he’d kept the true extent of his power hidden, even from some of the people he was closest to, at Dumbledore’s behest. The old man was a crazy manipulative bastard, but when Harry was still under his thumb he’d done it because he believed in the mission, and then there had never been a good time to admit the truth. Severus, McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey had known out of necessity, Luna had known because she always knew those kinds of things.

Harry lets his magic flow through him and out of his palm into the wound, healing the crack in her skull and stitching the dermis back together. When he’s sure it’s about as healed as it’s going to get, he pushes Emmaline onto her back again and checks her pulse. Her heart is beating, but she’s unconscious.

“She’s fine, unfortunately.”

He looks up and realises the other aurors have joined them, and they’re all staring at him. He climbs to his feet and backs up towards Severus, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

Charlotte casts a binding spell on Emmaline and removes the _petrificus totalus_ , lifting her up into the desk chair. She then ties Emmaline to the chair and turns to the other aurors and says, “Search the room and the office.”

“You’ve been planning to blame Cameron all along, haven’t you, Emmaline? At least long enough to get out of dodge.” Harry scowls at Emmaline, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s why you confronted Cameron about taking those ingredients.”

Emmaline rolls her eyes, and Harry kinda wants to punch her in the face. Really wants to punch her in the face. So much so that he has to clench his hands into fists and dig his nails into his palm to distract himself. He turns on his heel and walks to the door. Before he leaves he tells Charlotte, “If you need me, I’ll be in the lab, I need to start the potions for the Wyverns.”

Severus follows him. 

Harry doesn’t stop until he’s inside the lab, and plants his hands on one of the tables, hanging his head between his shoulders. He breathes through the nausea, the anger and the blood rushing through his ears. A gentle hand plants itself between his shoulder blades and Harry holds onto the feeling, lets it bring him back to himself.


	9. I’ve got so much love hidden beneath this skin - Put a Little Love on Me by Niall Horan

The day following Emmaline and Cameron’s arrest, Thomas Willem asks Harry to run the sanctuary until they can find someone to take the position permanently. He tries to offer said position to Harry, but Harry misses Australia; he misses his home and his cat, his colleagues and his friends. He’ll stay long enough to get the dragons healthy and ready for transport back to Australia, and long enough for someone to take over from him.

Severus stays with Harry, to help him take care of the newcomers, and Harry won’t admit it to the man, but he’s glad. He doesn’t want to see Severus go just yet, though he’s not sure he can explain why.

A week later, Harry discovers that neither of the Oceanic Wyverns they recovered from the poachers are female and it is the most confounding thing that’s ever happened to him. At first he wondered if one of them was intersex, and the whelps births had been an anomaly, something that hadn’t happened in hundreds of years, but when he convinces each dragon to let him take a blood sample, he realises that isn’t right either.

“I’m completely stumped,” Harry tells Severus, staring at the three potions in front of him. Severus had set them up to test the dragon’s DNA, potions he came up with on the fly, based on a similar potion for humans. Sometimes, Severus completely astounds Harry. “They’re all male, yet they were and are still living together comfortably, and we have three whelps with no mother. I have absolutely no idea.”

“Is it possible one of the dragons fathered the whelps with a female? Did you not tell me the females kill and eat the fathers after inception? Perhaps the male simply got to her first,” Severus offers, standing beside Harry with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Maybe? But it wouldn’t explain why they haven’t killed one another. I mean… unless they’re a mated trio?” Harry scratches his head. “Most other breeds of dragons, they mate for life, maybe they aren’t purebred Oceanic Wyverns? I mean, if the mother wasn’t a purebred either it could explain how she managed to carry three eggs to term, but I can think of a single breed with similar genes that when bred with the Wyverns would birth whelps that look like Wyverns?” He shakes his head and finds a stool, sitting it in front of the workbench and settling himself on top. “And how in the hell did the poor things get all the way to the Lake District, they come from _Australia_. I mean, I figure they could’ve moved to another arid country somewhere in the Middle East, or Africa. And maybe Anguis fled with the eggs when the other two were caught. But why would they have moved in the first place? I have so many unanswered questions.”

“There is absolutely nothing you can do about it right now, Harry. I think it would be best to put it away for later and focus on treating and healing the dragons.”

Harry sighs, rolling his eyes towards Severus. “Do you have to be the voice of reason?”

“Yes.”

“I just, I always want to know these things, I _need to know it_. I’m a control freak okay, and it completely stems from Dumbledore never telling me anything ever, I _know that_ , but Merlin it’s like an itch-”

“Harry.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head and standing up from the stool, turning off each flame from underneath the three cauldrons. “I know, I know. C’mon, let's start the new potions and then we can check on the dragons.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

One of the dragons doesn’t like Harry. He’s not sure why. It tolerates him, lets him heal it’s wounds and feed it potions, rub a salve over it’s toes where the claws were removed, but it never actively seeks out contact, and rarely allows it unwarranted. If Harry tries to pet it’s snout it hisses and snaps it’s jaw warningly, so Harry gives up. He isn’t sure why it doesn’t like him, but he’s not going to force it to stand his company, not after all it’s been through. So instead, he cleans it and heals it and leaves it alone the rest of the time.

The third dragon is healing quicker than either Anguis had or the one that hates him is, though it’s wounds weren’t any better than theirs. Harry isn’t sure why, but he’s just glad they’re all getting better.

He worried about the two newcomers with the whelps, but he shouldn’t have, they take to them easily, caring for them, playing with them. The mean one started teaching them how to breathe fire as soon as his ability had returned, which was great except they kept setting fire to the trees and Harry kept having to put them out. 

He’s just putting out one of the fires in a tree above their nest, absolutely done with the day when Severus appears out of absolutely _nowhere_ , scaring the shit out of Harry when he says, “There is dinner waiting in the kitchen.”

Harry nods and turns to the whelps, trying to look stern but no doubt failing miserably. “No more burning tonight, I’m turning on the sprinkler system so if you set anything on fire you’ll get wet.”

The three whelps nip playfully at his feet, tiny sharp little teeth digging into his thigh just on this side of painful. He gives them each a quick scratch under the chin before following Severus out of the enclosure. Most of the house is dark and quiet, save for the light on in an upstairs bedroom and another on in the kitchen. The others are either asleep, working with a dragon or out (aside from the one with their light on). Two plates have been placed on the kitchen table, a curry he thinks he remembers one of the other mentioning they planned to make. Thai Green Curry is one of Harry’s favourites, and as soon as he’s sitting down he starts wolfing it down, much to Severus’ equal disgust and amusement.

“You still eat like a child not sure when they plan to see their next meal. How do you fit it all?”

Harry laughs, taking a gulp from his glass of water to help with the tingle of spice in his mouth. “Hollow legs.”

“Must be.”

Harry takes another mouthful of rice and curry and watches Severus eat as he chews. He swallows the food in his mouth before he says, “Hey, can we talk about the thing?”

Severus arches an eyebrow. “The _‘thing’_?”

“You know, the whole _‘Cameron used us to distract each other and it almost worked’_ thing,” Harry says slowly, worried how Severus will react.

“Ah. Yes. That ‘thing’,” Severus replies, setting his fork in his dish slowly so it won’t make a loud clatter. He leans back, just a little, enough to straighten his back and looks over at Harry. “I had figured it would be rather clear.”

“Uh, no. No, it is not clear.”

Severus rolls his eyes and snorts. “Thick.” Harry cries out a _hey_ , but he doesn’t get time to be indignant because Severus continues. “I was entertaining your advances Harry. I had thought it was clear, but it seems you need express permission.”

Well, it’s pretty clear now. Harry’s trying to figure out what to say next when words claw their way from his throat. “The Half Blood Prince was the reason I started to question my sexuality.” He smacks his hands over his mouth and groans. “I wasn’t going to tell you that, that was a bit embarrassing. I didn’t have a face or a name but I obsessed over everything you wrote. The snarky things you said, the notes you wrote in the margins.” Harry shakes his head and lets out a short burst of laughter. “When I found out it was you it made it a billion times worse. There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

When Harry looks up at Severus, the man is smiling, skin crinkled in the corners of his eyes. Harry really wants to lean over the table and kiss him right now. 

“I kept up with your exploits following the war, purely for curiosity’s sake. I read the book you co-wrote with your mentor on Oceanic Wyverns, and the papers you wrote on the conservation of native habitat and the movement to strengthen restrictions on the breeding and poaching of magical creatures. You were always a bright man, Harry, but your mind continues to astound and impress me.”

Harry’s heart is hammering in his chest as he stands from his seat and takes the one beside Severus. He turns to face the man, and very quietly, says, “Is it alright if I kiss you right now?”

Severus almost looks like he’s considering it for a moment, except Harry can just see the twitch in the corner of his mouth. The bastard. 

When Severus finally nods, Harry leans forward and takes the man’s face into his hands, says, _you’re a bugger_ , and kisses him. 

Severus’ mouth is soft and warm, and wet like he’d run his tongue over his lips. They kiss slowly, mouths moving together gently, and Harry sinks into it, sighing as he strokes Severus’ cheeks gently with his thumb. When he’d allowed himself to think about how Severus might kiss - late at night when he was a teenager and still trying to figure out why he wanted to kiss a man twice his age who’d done nothing but prove he held a hatred for Harry that could not be eased - he’d always imagined it almost like a tempest, and nothing at all like the gentle brush of lips Harry gets to experience now. Harry almost wants it like that - actually, he really does - but he also likes this so much, likes falling into Severus so slowly, letting himself be dragged under.

One of Severus hands slides from where it had suddenly appeared (without Harry having noticed) on Harry’s shoulder to the base of Harry’s skull, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair. Harry makes a noise in his throat when the movement tugs at his scalp and that’s when Severus takes the opportunity to lick into Harry’s mouth. The kiss becomes insistent then and leaves Harry breathless, pulling away every few moments to take in deep gulping breaths before diving back in. Harry wants to kiss the man forever, until he’s red in the face and gasping for air, but he also wants more, wants to take Severus upstairs and to the bed, so he pulls away.

Severus has a flush over his cheeks, and his eyes are glazed, pupils dilated. Harry might just lose it at that, he thinks, at the fact he managed to affect Severus so much that it was visible on his face. “Would you like to go upstairs?”

Severus blinks almost owlishly at Harry before his brow furrows, just the tiniest bit. Barely imperceptible. “If I were to join you upstairs tonight, would it only happen the once?”

Harry chews on his lower lip, trying not to crack the smile fighting at the corner of his mouth. “Not if we don’t want it to, not if we wanted to again.”

Severus nods his head. “Put the dishes in the sink, Harry.”

Harry gives Severus a stupid grin and waves his hand, sending the dishes first to the rubbish bin to scrape the leftovers inside and then into the sink. “There, all done.”

“Braggart,” Severus replies, pushing his chair back and standing, pulling Harry up with him. He leans down and tilts Harry’s head up so he can kiss him again. He’s quite a bit taller than Harry is, and the angle is awkward, making Harry’s neck ache, but if Severus even tried to pull away Harry would most definitely get mad.

Severus does pull away though, and Harry only lets him because his hand slides down into Harry’s and he uses the hold he has to start dragging him upstairs. Harry’s grinning stupidly, he knows he is, he thinks if anyone saw him he might be embarrassed, but he isn’t, because it’s just Severus, and Severus already knows he’s stupid. 

Severus leads Harry upstairs to Harry’s bedroom and sets him down on the bed, before going back to the door to lock it, and set up wards for security and noise.

“Force of habit?” Harry asks gently, reaching down to pull his boots off, then his socks, placing his socks inside his boots and tucking them under the bed. 

Severus hums noncommittally and begins removing his own shoes and socks leaving them by the door. He returns to Harry, stepping up between Harry’s knees and leaning over to kiss him again, holding his face gently between his hands. Harry licks into Severus’s mouth and slides his hands around the man’s back, under his shirts, feeling his skin underneath his fingertips. He’s warm and soft, with the occasional rough texture of scar tissue, and Harry wants to get the material off of him so he can see what’s underneath. He tugs at the hem of Severus’ shirt, asking for permission, and when the man nods, giving it, Harry starts on the buttons. 

Harry climbs to his feet and moves the both of them around so Severus is up against the bed, and pushes him down so _he’s_ sitting on the mattress rather than Harry. Harry hovers over the man, but it’s a lot easier than kissing the way they had before, with his neck at an uncomfortable angle. He unbuttons the man’s top and pushes it from his shoulders. He has to tug at where the man has rolled his sleeves up at his elbows to get it to come off his arms, but then Severus is naked and Harry gets to pull back and take him in.

He’s fairer than Harry would’ve expected, and he has a ridiculous tan line on each arm from working with Harry in the artificial Australian sun in the Wyverns’ enclosure. He has dark and greying hair on his chest, similar to the patches on his forearms, and scars scattered across his skin, including the one from Nagini’s bite at the base of his throat. Harry reaches out to touch it gently, feeling the rough skin under the pads of his fingers. It almost looks like a spiderweb, stretching out in sharp juts of scar tissue. 

“I’m sorry I left you there. I thought… well I thought you were dead. I could’ve- no, I should’ve checked before I left.” He says quietly, voice small. He runs his thumb carefully over the scar before sliding his hand to cup Severus’ jaw.

Severus’ hand slides around Harry’s own and brings it up to his lips, pressing a small kiss to his knuckles. “You had a task to complete, Harry, and I had prepared for the possibility. I survived, and so did you.”

Harry leans down and presses his mouth to the scar before pulling his shirt off of his body and leaving it on the floor beside Severus’ own. He pops the button on his jeans and tugs down the zipper, pushing the material from his legs and stepping out of it before starting on the snaps of Severus’ slacks. Both down to their pants, Harry climbs into Severus’ lap, knees on either side of the man’s thighs and kisses him again, licking into his mouth. 

Severus’ hands slide around Harry’s back to hold him place, one hand settling at the base of Harry’s spine, the other sliding up Harry’s skin and settling around the back of Harry’s neck, fingers in his hair. It causes a shiver to run down his spine, goosebumps settling over his skin. His cock is _achingly_ hard, and it’s the first time he’s given it any mind since he and Severus started kissing. The only reason he’s noticed it now is because he can feel the hardness of Severus’ own occasionally brushing up against it. Harry settles himself fully into Severus’ lap and they both groan at the contact. 

The hand around Harry’s neck and the one around his back tighten minutely, holding Harry closer to Severus before they’re being flipped around and Harry’s being pressed into the mattress by Severus’ chest and hips. Severus’ hands slide out from under Harry and Severus plants them on the mattress, bracing himself above him. His hair has fallen out of the tie he had used to keep it in a bun, and Harry reaches up to tuck the greying strands behind the man’s ears, grinning up at him.

“You look far too smug for your own good,” Severus tells him, rolling his hips against Harry’s, drawing a deep groan from his mouth. Harry’s hands slide down to cup Severus’ arse, encouraging him to do it again with fingers dug into his flesh. It’s Severus’ turn to groan then, and he rolls his hips again, harder this time, over and over until Harry’s entirely sure he’s about to come in his pants like he’s seventeen again. Severus must realise, because he stops, climbing up onto his knees and sitting over Harry’s thighs. 

Harry takes a second to breathe the sudden waves of almost-there pleasure away before he says, “Okay, terribly embarrassing, ignore that. Can I eat you out?” Severus splutters, and Harry hadn’t even realised he was capable of pulling that reaction from the man. He grins up at Severus stupidly and reaches out to cup his hands around Severus’ hips, grin turning sharp and smug. “I take it you’d be interested in that? I’m very good at it.”

Severus rolls his eyes, “The ego.”

“You’re not saying no,” Harry sings, arching an eyebrow at Severus. “Take your pants off and sit on my face, please.”

Severus rolls his eyes and shoots Harry an unimpressed look before he says, “Do not delude yourself into believing you are calling the shots, Harry Potter.” 

A shiver runs down Harry’s spine, and yeah, okay, definitely not calling the shots, and very okay with it.

Despite his words, Severus still removes his pants and whispers a quick cleaning spell before he’s kneeing his way up Harry’s body. Harry must look unbearably smug, because Severus says, “Do not smirk Harry, or I might change my mind.”

“Sure,” Harry replies in a quiet murmur, mostly because Severus’ cock is _right there_ and Harry’s mouth is filling with saliva. He stares at it for an embarrassingly long time, memorising the shape of it, the thick, wide base, the head, wet with precome, the brown birthmark over some of the base of his cock and some of the skin of his balls. Harry reaches forward to grasp it in his hand, thumbing at the head, and Severus lets out a startled sigh of pleasure, hanging his head between his shoulders. 

He takes his hand back and licks up his palm to wet it before returning it to Severus’ cock, stroking the length slowly, swiping his thumb over the head, and Severus is panting over him. Severus is staring at him through the loose wisps of his hair, and the look in his eyes - intense and so, so turned on - makes Harry moan. He swipes his thumb over the head one last time, gathering precome before he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks at the salty taste, mouth turned up into a grin as Severus groans.

Harry settles back into the mattress, moving a pillow away from his head before he’s encouraging Severus to get closer. Severus knees his way up Harry’s body, settling above Harry with his calves around Harry’s ears. Harry reaches up and parts Severus’ cheeks with his palm, craning his neck to press gentle kisses to each one before placing another kiss over the furl of skin between them. Severus hums in the back of his throat, reaching down to stroke his fingers through Harry’s hair gently. Harry kisses him again, flicking his tongue out against his hole, then stroking it over the skin. 

He uses his thumbs to part Severus’ cheeks further and collects the saliva in his mouth over his tongue, laving it over Severus again, and then again. Severus groans and the fingers in Harry’s hair tighten just a little, pulling at his scalp enough that it drags a groan from Harry’s own throat. Severus’ thighs twitch and Harry flattens his tongue over his hole, digging the tip of it inside. 

He keeps licking, spearing his tongue inside Severus until the man’s thighs are shaking and the hand in Harry’s hair is so tight it’s almost painful. The man is moaning, high in his throat, and the noise is going straight to Harry’s cock. Harry pulls away, only so he can whisper a spell to slick his fingers and the inside of Severus’s hole. He slides a finger inside the man beside his tongue and the hand in his hair disappears, slapping against the headboard of the bed as a moan tears it’s way out of Severus’ mouth. 

Harry fingers the man open quickly, mostly because he’s pretty sure if he doesn’t make this quick, the both of them are going to come before Harry even gets his cock inside Severus, and that just won’t do. When he’s fucking three fingers into the man, tongue licking around the skin where their bodies meet, Severus speaks from above him.

“Enough.”

Harry brushes his fingers against Severus’ prostate once more before he pulls them away, sliding his arms out from under Severus’ thighs so he can help the man crawl back down and settle over Harry’s thighs. Severus’ chest and cheeks are a blotchy red colour, and his eyes are glazed over, his cock hard and leaking between his thighs.

“Hang on,” Harry says, reaching behind himself blindly to pile the pillows together before scooting up the bed and sitting against them. He can see Severus better this way, he doesn’t have to crane his neck. When Severus settles back over Harry’s hips, Harry slides his hands up his thighs and around his hips, leaving them there. “Better. Need a hand?” Severus gives him a look before his sitting up a bit so he can reach behind him and grasp Harry’s cock in his hand. “I see you have it well in hand.”

Severus rolls his eyes. “Hilarious,” he drawls, before he’s whispering a spell to slick Harry’s cock.

“I thought so,” Harry manages before Severus is pressing the head of Harry’s cock to his hole and bearing down until it slips inside. Then, Harry doesn’t have any words, all he can manage is a groan deep in his chest.

Severus settles Harry’s cock inside him easily, and Harry has to close his eyes at the sensation, focus on not coming too quickly and embarrassing himself. Severus apparently doesn’t like that, because he reaches down and takes Harry’s chin gently between his thumb and two of his fingers and says, “Eyes open.”

Harry does as told (which, okay, that thought sends a _very_ nice feeling through his body), blinking his eyes open to look up at Severus before the man lifts up, sliding up Harry’s cock until just the head is left inside his body. He slides back down slowly, so slowly Harry thinks he might scream, until he’s bottomed out again and he’s rolling his hips.

He’s an absolute bastard, fucking himself slowly on Harry, and he knows what he’s doing, if the smug look on his face is anything to go by. The hand he has on Harry’s chin slides into Harry’s hair, tugging slightly, and Harry groans.

“Severus, please,” he mumbles, fingers digging into Severus’ hips hard enough he’s sure there’ll be finger-shaped bruises in the morning. 

Severus takes pity on him, and after the next stroke up he fucks his hips down hard and fast, dragging moans from the both of them. Harry can feel the bunch of his muscles working under his palms as Severus fucks himself, rolling his hips so the head of Harry’s cock presses against his prostate. Severus’ mouth is bitten red and the flush on his cheeks is dark, a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. 

Harry thinks very seriously for a moment about leaning up and marking Severus’s skin redder (he thinks the man would look lovely with a bite mark on his pec, just above his nipple), but he doesn’t get a chance to. Without any warning, whatsoever, the pleasure that had been simmering low in his gut burns into a crescendo, spilling him over the edge when Snape slams down again, his body squeezing around Harry’s cock.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck. Severus_ ,” he gasps, back arching as he spills inside the man’s body. He rides the waves of pleasure, with Severus still rocking on top of him until Harry’s too sensitive to take it anymore. He uses the hands he has on Severus’ hips to leverage them over and get Severus on his back, carefully slipping his cock out of Severus’ body. “Sorry, it felt amazing, then really amazing, then not so amazing. Not a fan of overstimulation, at all.”

Severus nods, wriggling up so he’s sitting against the pillows, where Harry has been, and reaches down to grasp his cock in his hand, stroking it. He gives Harry a very clear, expectant look, and Harry laughs before settling himself between Severus’ thighs. He slides three fingers inside Severus’ body, into the slick of his own come, and hovers over Severus’ cock with his mouth open until the man gets the idea and feeds it to him. 

Harry fucks Severus with his fingers, rubbing at his prostate, and sucks at as much of Severus’s cock as he can fit in his mouth without gagging until Severus is moaning high in his throat. 

Severus comes just like that, thrusting his body down on Harry’s fingers and up into Harry’s mouth, hand in Harry’s hair. He spills inside Harry’s mouth, calling Harry’s name, and Harry barely has enough time to pull back enough that he doesn’t choke on it. Some of his come spills out of the corner of Harry’s mouth, and Severus’ free hand comes down to thumb it away, before shoving it back into Harry’s mouth. Harry blinks up at him, raising an eyebrow before letting the man’s cock slip from his mouth so he can focus on his thumb. He sucks it like he has Severus’s cock, licking at the tip before gently biting down until Severus is panting, then pulling away so he can swallow what’s left in his mouth. He carefully removes his fingers from Severus’ body and sits up on his knees so he can look down at the man. 

He was right about the bruises on Severus’ hips, they’re just starting to show and Harry’s cock makes a valiant effort to get hard again at the thought of going about his day tomorrow knowing he’d left marks on Severus’ body. Severus is red and slick with sweat, panting as he watches Harry, and Harry tries to commit the sight to memory. It really is a fantastic sight.

He leans up and pulls the man into a gentle kiss, nothing more than a careful press of lips before he pulls back and says. “Want me to get a cloth, or do you mind if I use magic?” Severus waves his hand noncommittally and Harry’s eyes widen. “Have I left you speechless, Severus Snape? Should I be taking a picture for posterity?”

Severus glares at Harry - though it has absolutely no heat behind it, and it does absolutely nothing to Harry - before he’s rolling his eyes. “Smug bastard.”

Harry shoots him a stupid grin befor whispering a spell to clean up the mess they made. It’s not perfect, and they’ll definitely need a shower in the morning, but it’ll do for now. “Now, Severus Snape. Are you a cuddler? Because I am. I require it after getting my brains fucked out.”

“Vulgar,” Severus mutters in a way that’s almost fond, before he’s turning to his side and fixing the pillows underneath him so he can lay down. He pats the space in front of himself, and Harry takes that as his invitation to climb over him and settle with his back to Severus’ front. A hand slides around Harry’s waist and Severus presses himself flush to Harry’s back. 

Harry spells the blanket over their bodies before curling his hand around the one Severus has on his belly. After a long silence, in which he almost falls asleep but not quite, and Severus is getting there too, Harry says, “If you promise that you fuck like you ride, I will let you bend me over the desk in the office.”

Harry feels Severus’ cock twitch in interest and the man groans in some mixture of arousal and exasperation. “While the thought is sorely tempting, we cannot fuck in the office. But I will very happily do so over the desk against the window. Later. Now go to sleep, you concupiscent scoundrel.”

“I have absolutely no idea what that means, but you should know I find it extremely hot when you say big mean words to me,” Harry replies, grinning wolfishly, despite Severus being unable to see it.

“ _Sleep_.”

Harry does.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The next morning Harry wakes first and carefully extricates himself from Severus’ hold, leaving the man sleeping as he gets up to dress and visit the toilet. When he reaches the kitchen, one of the other dragonologists, Quinn, is sitting at the table with _The Daily Prophet_ and a cup of tea, and they greet Harry with a bright smile.

“There’s coffee in the pot and eggs and bacon under a warming charm if you want it,” they say, pointing both out with the hand they have holding their cup of tea.

“Thanks,” he replies, waving his hand so two mugs appear and set themselves in front of the coffee machine, filling themselves with coffee, one the way Harry likes it, one the way Severus likes it. Quinn watches him do this, an eyebrow quirked, but they don’t say anything, and Harry’s glad, because he’s not sure he could explain.

Harry sends his mug to the office before he takes Severus’ mug, and a plate of eggs and toast upstairs to Severus who’s still asleep. It’s still early, but it’s unusual for Severus to sleep so long. Harry leaves the drink and food under a warming charm and lets the man sleep before he’s disappearing down the stairs again and making his way to the office.

As he drinks his coffee, he pens a letter to Thomas Willen. In it, he offers to stay on as head of the institute, under the proviso that Willen find a competent co-head in the dragonologists already working there so he can focus on the Wyverns as much as possible. He also writes about the whelp’s mysterious birth, and about research into it that he hopes will catch the man’s attention. When he’s done, he sends the letter through the floo just in time to see Severus let himself into the office, dressed and holding his mug.

“Hey, we’ll go down and check on the dragons in a second, I just have to write another letter.”

Severus nods and settles into one of the armchairs across the desk from Harry and watches as Harry pulls out another piece of parchment. This one he writes to his boss in Australia, tendering his resignation and apologising for the abruptness of it. In the letter he gives her a brief overview of everything that’s happened since he left and explains that the Wyverns need to stay in Wales for the time being. He tells her that as soon as they’re ready for the flight, he’ll bring them home, but he’ll be staying in the UK. He also promises to return to Australia within the next fortnight to sort his affairs and get his cat, and that anything he needs to sign can be done then. He sends that letter off, then writes one more, to his assistant. He offers him a choice, stay in Australia as their resident Oceanic Wyvern expert, with the opportunity to visit Harry whenever he would like, and be able to contact him whenever he needs advice, or move to the UK with Harry for as long as feels he needs to continue learning from him.

Once the third letter is sent off he turns to Severus - who has been perusing a bookshelf of rare books on dragons - and watches him until the man notices he’s being observed. His mouth turns up in the corners in a small smile, barely there but big enough that Harry thinks he’d see it even if he was standing a kilometre away from the man. The smile makes Harry’s gut flip and his chest tighten, and he smiles in return.

“Is everything alright?” Severus asks as Harry stands up from behind the desk, pushing the chair underneath.

Harry nods. “Yeah, just taking Willen’s job offer and sending my resignation to my boss in Australia.” The look on Severus’ face is hard to decipher, so Harry imagines the man is pretending he isn’t ecstatically happy that Harry’s decided to stay. Severus rolls his eyes when Harry grins stupidly at him, and lets himself be pulled down into a kiss. Harry’s thinking very seriously about climbing Severus - because he’s too short and it’s stupidly unfair - when he remembers they’re in the office, and the door isn’t locked. He pulls away, settling back onto his feet and says, “C’mon, let's go see our dragons.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like Snarry, there's a Snarry Discord server available [here](https://discord.gg/WPg2CRguYp).


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